Family Inheritance
by ShadowsOffended
Summary: Cal Hockley escaped the Titanic by rescuing a child. 14 years later, he has raised her as his daughter and now, Isabella has no idea about the truth that lies behind the man she believes to be her father.
1. Chapter 1

On a particularly sunny day in the Summer of 1926, the elite of American society gathered in New York City's Central Park to celebrate the 10th wedding anniversary of Caledon Hockley and his wife Jocelyn, the daughter of wealthy socialite, William Rutherford. Every guest was a name, a well-known figure amongst the social events of the country. The Hockleys had paid specifically for the entire park to be closed off to the public that day, open only to those invited and the countless waiters serving out trays of drinks. Prohibition was in effect but it seemed to bypass certain gatherings. A make-shift gazebo held an extravagantly sized orchestra. Mrs Hockley had instructed them to only play compositions by Mozart as he was her favourite composer, and the only one she would listen to. She stepped from guest to guest, each one giving her their congratulations on reaching such a momentous milestone. She accepted each greeting with a content smile and a reply of 'thank you' as the guests gave her presents of unimaginable cost. Of course, they were all simple trinkets to the Hockleys, one of the wealthiest families in the United States. Jocelyn was not entirely sure exactly what business the family had earned it's money from but it didn't interest her in the slightest. She had her own inheritance to live from and intended to do so. Her husband's money was a nice bonus.

She tried to spot her husband through the crowd of well dressed guests, glittering in diamonds and fashionable outfits. Although everyone acted joyously together, Jocelyn knew that secretly, they were all competing with each other to be the best dressed, the most expensively outfitted and the richest. Such was the main activity at these gatherings. She herself wore a satin emerald gown, adorned with beads and lace that had been custom designed by a dressmaker in Paris. It cost a grotesque amount of money but since that was of no concern to her, she was willing to pay any amount to be the centre of attention at her party. She seemed much older than her 36 years, her wrinkles leaving her aged beyond repair. It did nothing to dispell her pretty features, her eyes being the main feature of her face. Although cold in spirit, they gleamed a topaz colour that never failed to draw attention to her. She kept her hair styled in impeccable waves against her head, each one perfectly held together by invisible pins. The colour of her hair was an obviously unnatural red, but she refused to go gray gracefully. All in all, she exhuded the look of a lady about town, completely entrancing and at the same time unnerving.

"Darling, finally." A voice from behind exclaimed. "I thought you'd disappeared amongst the crowd."

Cal Hockley touched her shoulder with a light touch and turned Jocelyn around to face him. He too had dressed expensively, in a simple but nonetheless impressive black tuxedo with bow tie that contrasted with the perfect white of his shirt. He kissed Jocelyn, more a friendly brush against her lips than a real sign of affection.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Cal asked his wife. "I know that you aren't properly aquainted with many of father's business associates."

"It's fine. I'm having a lovely time." She replied. Although it was true that she was having conversatons with total strangers, attention was never a negative thing. Overall, the entire party was a complete bore to her, but she hoped Cal would not notice.

"At least someone is. Why is it that the moment one is throwing a party, people crawl from the wood-work and act as if they've been friends with you all your life?" Cal grumbled, looking around at the party guests who seemed to be having a much more enjoyable time than himself. "At least it's good for business, if nothing else."

"Why don't you go and sit down in the dinner tent?" Jocelyn suggested. "The toasts aren't for another hour or so."

"I might just do that, darling." Cal said, giving his wife another kiss, this one lasting longer than half a second yet remaining as loveless as the many kisses she had received over the decade. As he turned to leave the crowd, he saw a woman he hadn't seen in many years and had had no desire to lay eyes upon her again.

"Well, if it ain't the man himself!" A woman squealed excitedly, moving towards Cal. "Cal Hockley. I haven't seen you in, how many years has it been?"

"Hello, Mrs Brown." Cal feigned enthusiasm rather convincingly, although Jocelyn knew he was lying. The pair shook hands and smiled at each other with grins that could split the side of your mouth.

"It's so good to see you again, we left on rather unusual terms." Mrs Brown said, taking a moment to pause and remember that night with a slight shudder. Molly Brown was a painful and annoying reminder of bad times past for Cal. How she had gotten her hands on an invite, he would never know.

"Aren't ya gonna introduce me? This must be the lucky lady Mrs Hockley!"

"Yes, of course. Molly Brown, this is my wife Jocelyn Hockley, of the Rutherford family." Cal said. He always introduced his wife in this way, hoping her family connection would make a lasting impression.

"Charmed, Mrs Hockley. Or can I can I call you Jocelyn?" Molly said happily, shaking Jocelyn's hand. Her big hat, big figure and big gestures seemed so different from the willowy frame of Jocelyn, who took pride in her boyish body.

"Mrs Hockley is fine, Mrs Brown." She said with a hint of command. She had heard many things about the so-called unsinkable Molly Brown. Her mind briefly made a cruel joke about her unsinkable state compared to her size and muffled a slight laugh aquiringly. Her family never really associated itself with her sort of people, 'new money' as they were nicknamed. A moment of awkward silence followed that Molly broke with a boom of her common sounding drawl that seemed so out-of-place amongst this crowd.

"Fourteen years, Cal, and you haven't changed." She smiled, looking at him from top to bottom. "Well, not much."

Age too had touched Cal, pushing his hairline back that even a cleverly placed fringe could not conceal. He didn't mind the streaks of grey or creased skin by his eyes and mouth, something his father often called 'signs of character.'

"I could say the same about you, Molly. I would recognise you straightaway." He replied. Molly was obviously much older looking from their last meeting, but she kept that air of optimism with her that was unmissable.

"Still a charmer. It's good to see you again. We never got a chance to part on friendlier terms, what with...well, you know."

"Yes."

Nobody ever talked of the events of April, 1912 with Cal. He had expressed rather openly to his family that he wanted to erase the entire thing from his mind if at all possible. It was the only way he could conceal the truth. His friends had promised on their lives never to utter a word and he had moved to New York City just to start afresh. Molly was dragging poison from his past out again.

"If you excuse me, Molly. I have guests to greet."

Molly nodded, noting that Cal was still the same as he had been when she met him. When she heard that he had survived the tragedy, she immediately wondered how many of the crew he had bribed. Once a coward, always a coward. Unfortunately, as Cal tried to leave, he was stopped by the last person he wanted Molly to meet.

Isabella Hockley felt extremely uncomfortable at these extravagant events. Much like her father, she had no interest in these events. Her beautiful dress was rubbing against her skin, the jagged beads scratching at her delicate skin. She tried not to move her head too much as the tortoise-shell comb in her exceedingly long blonde hair would pull painfully at her scalp. The entire outfit was much too fancy for her but her father had kindly requested that she dress finely for today instead of her usual boyish slacks and shirts.

"Father, thank God you're here," She said, kissing him affectionately on his cheek, then doing the same for Jocelyn. "I don't think I'll ever get used to these occasions. Oh, hello ma'am." She turned to yet another stranger and held out her hand to be shaken, as it had been countless times today. "I'm Isabella Hockley."

Molly froze for a moment. The girl couldn't have been a day under 17, maybe even 18. Cal had either been keeping secrets, or she had found the bartering tool used for his escape from the R.M.S. Titanic. She regained her composure and shook Isabella's hand. She seemed like a sweet girl, not blessed with beauty but an unusually grabbing appearance that made Molly immediately like the girl, no matter what her situation.

"Well, I never. Cal, you didn't tell me you had a little girl." She told Cal, staring straight into his eyes as if looking for an honest reply. "Although I could hardly call you little, young lady. How old are you?"

"I'll be 18 in September, the same day as my grandfather." She informed the lady, still unsure of her name.

"What a coincidence! You look beautiful, Miss Hockley." Molly kept smiling at Isabella, her naive uneasiness obvious to Molly. "Your father is lucky to have such a lovely daughter. I bet she does you proud, eh Cal?"

Cal resisted the temptation to scowl at Molly and kept his composure polite. "She does, she's my little girl." He wrapped an arm around Isabella and brought her closer, giving her a fatherly kiss on the head. Isabella smiled. "Isabella, why don't you go to the dinner tent if you're feeling uncomfortable? I don't want my special girl to become overwhelmed by all this."

"Okay, I'll be back out when the toasts are happening." She gave Cal and Jocelyn another kiss. "It was lovely to meet you, ma'am." She said, shaking Molly's hand before leaving, tottering tentatively on her high heeled shoes. Molly watched her work her way through the crowd again, ready to ask some questions.

"Seventeen years old, Cal. Did the De-Witt Bukaters know or was this post Titanic?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"That is none of your business, Mrs Brown." Cal spat rudely, sick of this woman and her interrogation. "Isabella is my daughter and she doesn't need you poking around in our family history, upsetting everything."

"Oh, so little Miss Hockley is really someone else's girl. Did you pay for her or just snatch her from the hands of some desperate family?"

"How dare you!" Cal raised his voice just loud enough to intimidate Molly, but not draw attention to himself. "I saved her!"

"And she saved you." Molly added, refusing to back down to this slimeball excuse of a man. "Does she know?"

"Of course not, and that's how it will stay. Isabella is my daughter in every other way and I love her more than you'll ever know. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"So you're just gonna lie to her? Lying always did work for you." Molly didn't like the thought of that innocent girl having been snatched from her loved ones by Hockley, but she also shuddered at the idea of a 4 year old child perishing in that freezing water. The very thought of that night still made Molly tremble with cold, no matter what the weather. "It was nice seeing you Cal. Jocelyn."

With that, Molly made her way out of Central Park, never wanting to see Caledon Hockley again. She hoped that girl was happy with that man as a father, happier than a certain Rose De-Witt Bukater was with him as a fiancee.

Cal grabbed a brandy glass from a waiter's tray and downed it in one gulp. That party crasher had left him in an infuriated state that even alcohol could not calm. He had spent 14 years concealing Isabella's unfortunate past and giving her the best life any girl could ever dream of and he thought it would have ended in 30 seconds thanks to Molly Brown. Jocelyn put a comforting arm around his broad shoulder, unsure of what else to do.

"Don't worry. It's all safe." She reassured her husband. The girl she called her step-daughter would always be the child of Caledon, the heir to the Hockley fortune. "Isabella is your girl, nobody elses."

"Yes," Cal said. "Nobody elses."


	2. Chapter 2

The party continued on into the night, ending only when dusk arrived on the horizon. Central Park was left in a devastated state of broken glasses and half eaten food that would be cleaned up by the waiters later in the day. Only the Hockley family remained in the dinner tent, still declaring toasts to Cal and Jocelyn's future. Nathan Hockley, Cal's father and business partner, was merry with alcohol and becoming rather emotional. His wife, Lucille, tried to restrain his merriments, but it was difficult for someone just as intoxicated as him.

"And here's to the beautiful Jocelyn. I myself couldn't have picked a better wife for my son." Nathan declared, lifting his 12th glass of illegal brandy. They all clinked their glasses together, each feeling as content with theirself as the last person. Jocelyn only pretended to take a sip from her glass, knowing Nathan would berate her otherwise for not joining in. By the end of all the day's events, her hair was beginning to loosen and her make-up had smudged at the lips, looking a little bleary.

Cal was not in a party mood. He wanted the whole event to just disappear. Unfortunately it would be the talk of the socialite town and make headlines in the gossip columns for weeks. His parents had organised the entire party, insisting that such a wealthy and imporant figure in American high society could not let his wedding anniversary pass without celebration. It could only have a positive impact for the business.

"Thank you father." He said. "Maybe it's time that we let this party wrap up and all go home."

"Nonsense!" Nathan slurred. "It's just getting started. We have so much to celebrate for." He grabbed his drink again, letting most of it spill on the table-cloth.

"Nathan, I think you've had enough to drink." Lucille said, swaying in her chair.

"I'm fine, Luc, stop bothering me. You'll ruin Caledon's day." He pushed away his wife with a laugh. He didn't know Cal's day had already been classified as a disaster. Cal turned around to see Isabella sitting by the piano they had brought down from the Hockley estate for the party. A so-called professional had been hired to serenade the guests but Cal had considered him incompotent and fired him 2 songs in. Isabella straightened her back, like her piano teacher had taught her, and started to play a piece she had been learning recently. Although she faltered a couple of times with some of the keys, she played the piece competently and with all her heart. Her weeks of practice were paying off and she soon hoped to be able to play the piece flawlessly. Cal was struck with a surge of pride. He had showered Isabella with nothing but the finest things that money could buy and she had grown into an exceptionally bright young lady with a good head on her shoulders. She would make a good wife, although it seemed a waste to let her waste away in a household when she would make a wonderful partner in Hockley's business. Cal intended to do so, but only after his misogynist father handed over the reins.

"And we have Miss Isabella Hockley!" Nathan yelled, unable to control his voice thanks to the alcohol. Isabella stopped playing and turned to her family. "She's a good girl. She's made us all proud and I'm sure that Cal's glad she came along when she did! And bloody shocked I was when he turned up on our doorstep with her!" Nathan's laugh was booming and filled the tent. His statement made the family freeze. Nathan was always a little loud mouthed when in such a state but this was the first time he had mentioned - in a way - Isabella's heritage. Cal stood up and decided to force his father out. The imbicile was practically mocking him!

"I think it's time you got home to sober up." He ordered, grabbing his dather's arm. "Mother, would you inform the driver that both of you are ready to leave?" 

Lucille nodded and dashed off as quick as her wobbly legs would carry her. Nathan clung to his son, thinking they were sharing some sort of bonding moment. "Bye bye Isabella..." He managed to coax from his mouth before he left the tent.

Although a little perplexed by his choice of words, Isabella deemed them to be nothing but the incomprehensible ramblings of a drunk man and returned to her music. She was tired but continued to play, even as her fingers cracked. She reminisced of a time when she detested her music lessons. Nothing could have been more tedious to a 5 year old girl than being forced to sit by that overbearing piano every night until the combination of keys was imprinted into her mind. But as she got older, something matured inside her and she realised the true beauty of music. Her father was right to push her into piano lessons, he made sure she had the best teacher and all the right tools. Now she played as often as possible, hoping to perfect her sound and one day perform to crowds in the music halls of America. Of course, it was only a dream, a Hockley would never be allowed to work in such a life, especially a woman.

Cal returned, having made sure his father was sent home with minimal fuss. The stupid man! He wanted to scream in frustration. Two close calls in one day was enough to send him over the edge. But he held onto the realisation that he had a beautiful and perfect girl that was his daughter, no matter what. She didn't come into his life the way that he had imagined his child being born, but she was the best thing in his life and had lead him in a new direction. He had made sure her upbringing was exceptional yet never let her past life become involved. Isabella was raised a Hockley and would remain one until her death. He listened to her music again, amazed at her talent. Cal had played piano as a child too but had forgotten about it when he entered adulthood. Fortunately, Isabella would not make that mistake. He grabbed a chair from a table and sat next to her, watching her nimble fingers expertly work their ways across the black and white keys.

"You're getting rather good at that," Cal said proudly. Isabella reached the climax of the song and ended with a smile. Cal gave her a small applause, a piece of praise that meant more than anything her tutor ever told her. "How about another one? Just for me?" He asked. Isabella started another tune, this one a little more sombre than the last.

"I don't think we should let grandpa drink so much when he's at social occasions." She said, continuing to play. "I think we've heard the Harvard story twenty times tonight." They bothed laughed, comfortable in each other's company without the interruptions of strangers.

"Yes, well I'm just glad this whole frightful night is over." He said, filled with relief.

"Who was that woman we spoke to earlier?" Isabella asked. "The big woman ho was filled with enthusiasm.Was she a friend of yours?"

"More an aquaintance." Cal insisted, his heart skipping a beat. "I hadn't seen her in 14 years before she turned up tonight. It was completely unexpected."

"How did you meet her?"

"My, you are curious aren't you? She's just an old lady who hangs onto her past." he laughed, happily avoiding the subject. "Don't worry, she won't be bothering us again."

"Okay," She concentrated on the lower notes, loving the vibrations against her hands. "Jocelyn didn't seem too thrilled with tonight's celebrations."

"You know what she's like. It's damn near impossible to bring a smile to her lips unless it involves spending money." Despite the negative comments, Cal did care for Jocelyn in some manner, if not that of a proper husband. "Dont be too cruel about her, you know I don't like it."

"I wasn't being cruel, I was merely making an observation. At one point I hought he was going to fall asleep whilst holding a cocktail glass."

"Now, now. She may be a little...unusual, but she is my wife. And your step-mother, Isabella. One day, you'll properly experience the life of a high rising wife. Then you'll know exactly why she wanted to fall asleep." He leaned over and placed a kiss on his daughter's head.

"I can't wait." she said dryly. "At least the conversations won't be too difficult. I've been hearing the same topics spoken for years. Do socialites really have nothing else to talk about but money?"

"Maybe you can educate them a little."

"I'm still trying to convince Jocelyn that there is more than one composer in the world." Isabella said back, speeding up the tempo of the music until her fingers were mere blurs to Cal. With her movements, the music sped up but kept it's morose mood. Her clear enthusiasm for the music was boundless and, even as Cal became overwhelmed by the emotions of the notes, she kept a smile on her face until the last note. She looked at her father's face and hoped that his wide-eyed expression of shock was positive.

"Astounding!" He finally said after a few moments of silence. "And to think, you wanted to give it up when you were 7."

"Well, all children are defiant of their father's wishes for a while," Isabella joked. "Would you like to hear another one?"

"Maybe later on, I'm close to falling asleep here. It's been a very long day that I don't wish to repeat for a very long time. Grab your things, I'll get somebody to pick up the piano later." Isabella grabbed her jewelled purse, a little worn with a few sequins missing but she loved it too much to discard it, and stood up to give her father a hug. Cal kept a hold of her for a few seconds, remembering the first time he held the little girl in his arms and thought of her as his child. He didn't want anything to spoil the 14 years of bliss he had achieved through accidental fatherhood.

"Tell you what, how does this sound?" Cal asked, pulling Isabella back. "You have a month until school starts again. We can go out into grandpa's house in the Hamptons for a Summer break. No stupid parties or business deals, just the three of us and the piano. Does that sound good?" Isabella nodded. "Great, we can leave the day after tomorrow. Go wait for the driver."

She left the tent with a newfound spring in her step that replaced her tiredness. As she left, Jocelyn came back in, her make-up removed to avoid any more accidental smudging. The day had taken it's toll and her face seemed sunken with exhaustion and in need of a good night's rest. She had also admitted defeat with her hair and allowed it to frizz up from her head.

"The driver will be here in a few minutes." She informed her husband. who only nodded in reply. "Has she asked about Nathan's drunken remark yet?"

"No, thankfully. I'll be having a word with father when he sobers up."

"You know he hasn't been 100 percent sober in years. How he runs that business, I'll never know." Jocelyn sat next to Cal, slowly trailing her long, manicured fingernails up his arm and towards his neck. She tried to grasp his neck and bring him in for a kiss, but Cal pulled away quickly and tried to act as if nothing had happened. Then again, Jocelyn thought, nothing ever happened between them. Not in a very long time. Cal had decided that affection was only required when his self-control became too difficult and he absolutely needed to relieve himself. Jocelyn complied to this demand but often wished for a little more in terms of kisses and hugs. Luckily, Cal had no problem in displaying his feelings through gifts to his wife.

"He's had a tough life, he's entitled to a little happiness." Cal reasoned, although he knew perfectly well that Nathan was nearing the end of his ability to run the family business competently.

"We all are, but we don't let our personal states get in the way of making business decisions. When you take over fully as president of Hockley Industries, we'll all be better off for it. You and your...business partner." Jocelyn said, a sly smirk coming across her face. Cal knew that, whle Jocelyn had no head for business ventures, she revelled in the idea of being a part of the business. The image of husband and wife running a business together was something Jocelyn hoped to achieve in the very near future.

"Yes, I guess it will. And I have the perfect business partner in mind." Cal said, standing up and meeting Jocelyn's eyes. Although he was tall in stature, she was of equal height when in her heels.

"Perfect," She grinned, giving Cal a peck on the cheek. She immediately imagined how she would organise her new business partner office. The familiar rumble of their car sounded outside. Jocelyn circled her arm around Cal's and lead him outside. While she couldn't wait for her imminent promotion to business partner, Cal thought of working alongside his daughter in the family business.


	3. Chapter 3

After falling into a long sleep that lasted right into the next day, Isabella woke up a few minutes before noon with a startled cry. Her dreams were always tempestuous and contained the same things, but this particular one had shaken her to the core.

It started off the same way as the others: a dark and starless night, unfamiliar surroundings of long, sterile white corridors, the collective sounds of terrifying screams. She ran down the halls, trying to barge her way through the chaotic crowds of people. Although she was unsure of where she was, Isabella knew she had to get out quickly or something of unspeakable terror would happen.

Then, things suddenly switched to a different place. It was cold, unnaturally cold. She could see her breath forming into clouds in front of her face. Even more people scurried past her, wearing oddly shaped white coats that padded out their bodies. Her surroundings were more open than before but the volume of people around her made it very claustrophobic. To her side, there was water, nothing but water. The darkness had blurred the horizon so there was nothing but the black water. Then, out of nowhere, she felt alone. All these people were trying to escape somewhere, she didn't know where, but there wasn't a single person who cared for her. She was a little girl lost at sea.

It was the same dream that she had experienced countless times before. Everytime she woke from it, she couldn't help but squeal with shock and this time was no different. Her cheeks were clammy with panic as were her palms. After a few seconds to take in the reality of her surroundings, she determined that she was awake and calmed down. It was absurd to be afraid of the delusions of your own mind but Isabella couldn't help it. Those dreams were scarier than anything she had ever lived through. The feeling of solitary that seemed to overwhelm her in that dream was something she never wanted to go through.

Still a little sleepy, she stumbled from her 4-poster bed and decided to pack her bag for the Hamptons straightaway. Her father had decided that they should leave as soon as possible to enjoy the peace and quiet before the hoards of other beach-house owners joined them and disrupted things. Unfortunately it was impossible for the Hockleys to go anywhere without the circus of high-society following. Isabella had lived like this her entire life and it was completely normal to her, but horrifyingly dull. It was not unusual for her to stroll around Manhattan and be stopped by a well dressed stranger asking after her family or wondering if she was free to attend a special get-together. She tried to politely decline each invitation but it wasn't easy, especially after she had been raised to understand that each and every event contained the possibility of a business deal, and she didn't like to disappoint her father. The family business was his life and she tried to help as much as possible even if it did send her mad with boredom. In all honesty, she preferred the actual business side of things, such as the numbers and figures. Her grandfather called her 'an enigma' for showing interest in matters he considered 'men's work.' But Isabella had never paid any notice to the activities that girls were supposed participate in. Her clothing was proof of that.

She had 2 wardrobes. One contained the formal dresses her father bought her for special occasions while the other was full of her day-to-day wear. She opened the latter and picked out a few pieces that hung from the rail. The always practical minded Isabella favoured long slacks and tailored shirts. It meant she was much less likely to complain about being uncomfortable. Jocelyn constantly grumbled about how inconvenient her lavish dresses were yet wore them every single day, some of which bore a resemblance to a circus costume. Cal had bought Isabella many dresses, hand sewn with expensive fabrics and crowned with jewels, but she only wore them once before tossing them back into the wardrobe and forgeting about them. It was hard to feel guilty about such a waste when her father constantly bought her so many things. Isabella was spoilt rotten but, unlike some obnoxious girls she knew from school, she never took advantage of it. She rarely asked for anything from her father and felt wrong on the rare occasions that she did. Money wasn't everything to her.

She neatly placed some trousers of varying colours and a few white shirts into a leasther suitcase. Knowing that there would most likely be some sort of party she'd be obliged to attend, she grabbed some dresses from her other wardrobe at random. She didn't really care what ones they were, they were all awkward to wear. Into the suitcase went some shoes, both formal and casual, her porcelain hairbrush, a few books, sheet music for the piano (one of the few things she had asked her father for was another piano to keep in the Hamptons house) and a framed photograph.

The photograph was her favourite one, a scene of her and her father sitting on a bench in Central Park. They were both grinning madly and holding onto each other tightly. Isabella was just a little girl there, with bushy hair much darker than it was now. She had many pictures of the pair of them as well as several that included the tight lipped scene stealer Jocelyn. Unusually, she had none of her mother and neither did her father. Everytime she had asked about her mother, Cal had dismissed the subject, deeming it too upsetting for him to talk about. He told Isabella that her mother had died in childbirth and he was uncomfortable with talking about her. Everytime she brought up the subject, his eyes watered and he struggled to find words. It was obvious to her that Cal hadn't properly moved on from her mother, even as he celebrated 10 years marriage with Jocelyn. He had no pictures, none of her possessions, nothing that even marked her existance. She never really missed her, she couldn't remember having anybody else other than her father, but she felt that she lacked something that maybe a mother could fill. But Cal had done everything possible to make her life good and she loved him for that.

Isabella quickly dressed in yet more slacks and a shirt. With her suitcase packed, she left it by her bedroom door for one of the maids to pick up and headed downstairs to greet her father. He sat in the largest dining room surrounded by many sheets of paper, which he tried to organise while one of the maids poured him some coffee. Isabella sighed, he was always doing extra work at home. He never seemed to have any free time and he wasn't even the president of the business yet. She dreaded to think how many hours he would work when he did become that, she'd never see him.

"Morning father," She announced, kissing his forehead as she always did before sitting down next to him.

"Hello Isabella." Cal replied, smiling contently. "I thought I heard something upstairs earlier. Did you have a nightmare again?"

"Oh, yes. But it's okay. It's just a dream." She reassured her father, who seemed to always worry about her.

"Maybe I should take you to a doctor about them. They're becoming more frequent - that's the 2nd time this month you've had a bad dream."

"I don't need to see a shrink, I'm not mad." She quickly added. "I just need to destress a little. The Hamptons will do me some good." Cal looked at her, not quite believing her, and nodded at his daughter. He felt helpless when there was something wrong in her life, even the most insignificant thing, and he couldn't make it better. Isabella didn't tell her father what the dreams were about, there was no point in doing that until she could understand them herself. She went to grab herself an empty cup from the tray on the table but the maid got there first and poured her a strong coffee with lots of sugar but no milk, just the way she liked it. She quietly thanked the maid then surveyed the table. The piles of sheets covered up almost every inch of it.

"And here I was thinking that we were taking a vacation."

"We are, darling. I just need to get this all cleared up before go." Cal replied apologetically. "Then we'll leave as soon as you're finished breakfast."

Isabella picked up a sheet that lay in front of her. Her eyes quickly skimmed the page, noting several important words regarding her father and his father's business.

"So when does the official swap-over take place?" She asked.

"As soon as your grandfather signs these forms. Then there's the inevitable celebration which we will have to grin like imbiciles all the way through, then I can officially make some proper changes to Hockley Industries. No more hangers on, no more desperate boot lickers wanting to climb the business ladder. Things will be proper, a proper family business."

"Grandpa's going to miss being in charge." She said, handing over the paper. "He loves the business."

"Well he should have thought of that before he picked up that bourbon bottle." Cal retorted with a hint of sharpness. Isabella slumped her shoulders, folding her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting. Cal had a little bit of a tempter which fortunately he didn't unleash often, but when it looked as if he was about to, Isabella became extremely uneasy. It was an unpredictable process. Sometimes, it took a while to build up to a full blown scream. Other times he snapped and changed like the flip of a coin. She had only seen her father in that state once before, it had taken days for her to calm down again. Luckily Cal regained his normal composure quickly.

"Sorry, I need a little destressing myself. It's been a difficult time at work." He apologised. Things had been very hard to keep together at Hockley Industries. He was pratcially running the business on his own because his father had decided that he just couldn't be bothered any more. This wasn't much of a problem for Cal, who preferred having control of the business, but he couldn't make any drastic changes without the current president's signature and Nathan. who enjoyed having the prestige of presidency, refused to sign anything until he was sober - an increasingly rare occurence. But with only a few months until his 75th birthday, Nathan had finally given in and realised that retirement was the best option for everyone, but mostly himself. The change-over couldn't come soon enough for Cal, who wanted to have his daughter involved in the running of the family business as soon as possible.

"The sooner we get this deal smoothed out, the better." He said, packing away the sheets into his briefcase. He could take all the documents to the Hamptons to keep them safe. "Now, are you ready?"

"Is Jocelyn ready?" Isabella asked, smirking.

"She's already left to attend to something. She's going to meet us there, she still has a few things to pack."

"When we say a few things, we really mean she's off to buy more things she doesn't need, right?"

"She can spend money if she wishes too, it is her own inheritance after all." Cal reasoned, despite the fact that he despised his wife's unnecessary shopping sprees. It was a common sight to see her arriving home with a removal van full of purchases driving behind her, followed by a long story about how she saw it and just had to have it. Cal never spoiled his wife, having vowed never to buy a woman anything of ridiculous cost again, excluding Isabella. His father still complained 14 years after he had lost the Heart of the Ocean.

"I just think that all that spending is overcompensation for something else. You can't throw money at something and expect it to solve everything." Isabella said, finishing her coffee.

"I know what you mean," Cal said honestly. "Right, let's get a move on. Where's your suitcase?"

"In my room."

"Trudy." Cal called. The maid scurried back through to the dining room, stopping in front of her boss with her head kept down. "Go and fetch Isabella's suitcase from her room and take it out to the car."

"Yes sir," She obediantly answered before trotting off upstairs.

"Father," Isabella asked. "When you do take over from grandpa, does that mean we'll have to move to Pittsburgh?"

"God no, I am not going back there. We'll simply run things from New York. It's easier." He said. He meant that things would be safer from them. Many people back in his hometown knew about Isabella and the way she entered Cal's life. Many of these people also held certain grudges against him for past decisions he had made in the madness of immature youth. He wouldn't be surprised if one person 'accidentally' let something slip.

"Okay,"

"Right, let's get going." Cal said with a big smile on his face. The next few weeks would be a welcome chance to relax and forget about the past. Cal relished any moment he could spend solely in the company of his daughter. She had grown up so much in the past 14 years, and so quickly too. It felt like only a few days ago she was sitting on his lap, falling asleep as he read her a story. This vacation would give them some much needed father-daughter time, then he could tell her his plans to make her the company's vice president. It would make a lot of current associates furious but he didn't care, he knew she would be perfect for the job.

Isabella headed to the car, where the driver was waiting with the door open for her. She thanked him as she always did and sat in the back seat, opening the window all the way. It would be a long drive. She wanted to sleep again but didn't dare for fear of the dark water again.

(Author's note: I just wanted to say a massive thank you! to all the people who reviewed this story. I really didn't think anybody would read it. It was only a bit of fun after I watched the film with my parents and my imagination went wild. I hope you all continue to read and thanks again, the reviews were a fantastic confidence boost!)


	4. Chapter 4

After a nauseating three hours on the road, plagued with trafffic jams and a bad smell that constantly followed them, Cal and Isabella arrived at the Hockley Hamptons home. The building was much less intimidating than their New York residence and, while still imposing in it's size, gave off a more welcoming feeling that even the six foot tall brick wall surrounding the estate couldn't lessen. The vast garden was filled with many varieties of flowers that Isabella had never seen outside of that estate. Everything seemed to be in bloom, even the house itself was adorned with pink flowers that crept up the walls and drainpipes and danced in the gentle wind. Added to the beaming sun that shone overhead, the house just seemed even more beautiful to Isabella. She much preferred this house to the others that the Hockleys owned across America and loved the infrequent occasions that they had to stay there. Nothing beat those calm surroudings. The only thing that made them intolerable were the hoards of other rich stiffs who seemed to enjoy having loud, irritating parties near by at this time of year.

The car pulled up just a few feet away from the front door, where the house-keeping staff waited. They were ready to do almost everything for the Hockleys and the moment the car stopped, they raced towards the vehicle and opened doors, grabbed the suitcases and announced 'Hello Mr Hockley' in unison, followed by 'Hello Miss Hockley.'

"Hello, Mr Hockley," The eldest man said. Preston had been the family's butler for longer than he himself could remember. He had helped to raise Cal as a child and worked both in Pittsburgh and the Hamptons when the occasion called for him. The Hockleys treated him as much like a member of the family as they could treat a man who waited on them beck and call. He kept his few strands of silver hair neat upon his liver-spotted head and was seldom seen looking unhappy. Cal shook his hand and they both exhanged smiles.

"Good to see you again Preston." Cal replied as the maids and helpers dragged away their bags.

"And Miss Hockley, it's been a long time since you graced us with your presence." Preston grinned while giving Isabella a friendly hug.

"Hello Preston. I'm so happy to be back."

"Preston, if you please. We'd like to keep our visit here quiet. No parties or any of that trash, so please don't tell any of the locals we are here." Cal asked.

"You have my word, sir." Preston promised. "Would you like us to prepare luncheon now or later?"

"I think we'll wait for Jocelyn to arrive. She should be here in a couple of hours but who knows for sure? Right now, I just want to rest. The drive was tiring."

"Very good, sir." Preston took a small bow and headed back inside. Isabella wiped her bleary eyes and decided to dive straight into enjoying her vacation.

One of the special facilities that was included in the Hockley's Hamptons home was the addition of a private swimming pool. The patio area behind the house was even more extravagent than the front yard and contained the full spectrum of flowers, with different breeds and colours. The crowning glory was the vast pool placed in the dead centre of the stone patio. Apparently the pool was the same size as the one that had been used at the 1904 Olympic Games in Missouri but Isabella had never measured. All she saw when she looked at that pool was death trap.

For some inexplicable reason, she had always been afraid of water. She could cope fine with small amounts but when it came to the home swimming pool or the open ocean, she froze and panicked. She had tried some self diagnosis into why she felt this way about something so normal but only came to the simple conclusion that is was a question of her inability to swim. She hadn't learnt how to swim because she cried every time she was forced near the edge of the pool. The entire issue was a vicious circle for Isabella so she avoided the pool completely. Unfortunately, at the time of day they had arrived in the Hamptons, the sun was directed so that it shone towards the patio area. In need of some sunshine, she hesitantly headed towards the patio. With a book in hand and an oversized blue sun-hat on her head, she cautiously shuffled outside, already filled with nerves.

Avoiding the edge of the pool like wildfire, Isabella almost stepped backwards into the decorative hedges outlining the patio. She wondered why she was even bothering to come outside when she felt so terrified but the lure of the sunshine and blissful quiet was too much to ignore. After all the parties and headache inducing noise of the big city, she was willing to tolerate her biggest fear, if only for a few moments. Then, like a blast of bad luck, the wind let out a powerful burst and carried off her hat onto the surface of the water. Isabella sighed with a mixture of irritation and an underlying sense that this was all a huge joke for somebody out there.

The hat floated atop the water, a circular object that caused ripples across the formerly peaceful pool. It was an expensive hat, something her father had bought her the last time they had come to the Hamptons, so she couldn't just leave it there. None of the house-keeping staff seemed to be around. Why was there never anybody available when you needed them, Isabella wondered. She decided if no-one else was there, she might as well do it herself. The basic idea of self sufficiency was never one Isabella needed to be taught. As a Hockley, she would always have somebody on hand willing to do anything for her. While she tried as often as possible to be independant, it was hard to not take advantage of the 'facilities.' Looking around the patio area, her eyes caught a glimpse of the short poled net the gardener used to look after the koi in the ornamental pond. It wasn't lengthy enough to reach the very centre but it would do. She grabbed the bottom as firmly as she could, knelt on the slightly soggy pool-side and cautiously reached over. As she hovered above the water, the ends of her hair dipped into the pool and created more ripples. She could just reach the brim of her hat and no more with the net. Another couple of inches and she could bring it back. Holding her breath, she tried to push herself a little more forward, one hand around the net handle, the other digging it's fingers into the lip around the pool edge. Unfortunately, just as she captured the hat in the netting, her fingers gave way and she plunged head first into the water.

At first, she just felt numb. The water was so chilly, she couldn't feel anything until she had been submerged for a few seconds. Then, once the full extent of the situation set in, she frantically tried to fight her way back to the surface. She could just reach the open air and tried to take a breath but she felt like some invisible force was pulling her back down. Everything slowed down under water, her movements registered as quick in her mind but she couldn't get past the force of the water. It literally overpowered her, emphasising her former paranoia. Even though it was simply a swimming pool, it felt like the entire Atlantic Ocean to Isabella. Nothing could possibly match this terror. How long had she been under for? She flailed up and down wildly, trying to break the surface again. Her clothes weighed her down even more. She couldn't hold her breath any more, the pressure was becoming too much but she knew she absolutely must not release it. However, her body did not comply with that wish and, instinctively, she opened her mouth allowing water to flood into her lungs. In what she thought was her final moments, Isabella thought of her dreams. The dark water was coming back to get her...

Another splash entered the pool, sounding more like a rumble in Isabella's ears. She didn't want to open her eyes, her body was in pain enough as it was. Something curled itself around her body and lifted her upwards. As she broke the surface, she felt nothing but relief and graditude for whoever it was that was currently attached to her back. She spluttered, water flying from her lips as she tried to catch her breath. The figure lifted her onto the pool side and jumped up next to her. She lay on the ground, feeling the heat of the sun brush her soaking skin. Finally opening her eyes, the figure's face was shrouded in the shadows, leaving only his silhouette.

"What the hell was you doing in the pool?" He asked, angrily. "Who told you you could go in there?"

Isabella was bemused. She tried to sit up but was exhausted. "Er, I..."

"Are you stupid or sumat?" He interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?" She replied, forcing herself to sit up. His face became clear to her, dripping wet from every possible place. Chestnut coloured hair was plastered to his head, covering the top half of his eyes. She could still see that his eyes were an unusually bright shade of green, more suited to a painting than real life. He was older than her, but not so old that it had affected his appearance, she guessed early thirties. For a split second, she wondered if his square jawed face and sun-kissed skin would look more handsome if he would stop scowling at her, then she remembered she was mad at him.

"You can't just go jumpin' into other people's pools whenever you want. I should report you to Mr Hockley or Preston, you'll get fired." He continued, wiping away a stream of water from his cheek.

"Who the hell are you?" She exclaimed. It was unbelievable that this man was angry at her for alomst drowning. She stood up and stormed away, shaking water from her own arms like a dog dries it's body.

"Hey! You can't go inside soaking wet!" The man continued to shout as she entered the building. "Oh, you are so fired!" He followed her inside, creating puddles on the cream marble floor as he walked. He grabbed Isabella's arm and pulled her back to face him. "I'm talkin' to you!"

"I live here you imbicile!" She screamed. Her near death experience and the fisaco that had followed had left her at her wits end. Finally, the man stood silent, staring at her with disbelief, as if she'd told a joke. Luckily, Preston entered the hall and stood in between the pair.

"Miss Hockley, what on earth happened?" He asked, putting a caring hand on her shoulder. "And Darcy, son. Are you both okay?"

"I'm fine Preston, just...accident with the pool." Isabella said, restraining the urge to scream at the man. Darcy was considering handing in his notice of resignation on the spot! He couldn't help but blush a little with shame. After all, he had just called his boss' only daughter stupid. How was he to know that the girl was Miss Hockley? He had never seen her before in the entire time he had been employed in the Hamptons. Plus she was not how he had imagined a wealthy socialite's daughter would look. Her clothing was very similar to his own and she had the appearance of one of the staff, the reason he had assumed she was one. She wasn't attractive, which sounded so cruel in his head but it was the truth. True, she did had beautiful eyes, rosy cheeks and hair so long and soft-looking that they were impossible to ignore. Also, her figure, accentuated by her sticking wet clothes so out of fashion with today's love of the boyish frame made her refreshingly healthy-looking. But her facial features seemed too out of proportion. Her top lip was non-existant and the bump in her nose drew attention away from the positives of her appearance. On second evaluation, Miss Hockley was a unique beauty, not completely gorgeous, but alluring in some way. But if looks could kill, he would be in the morgue soon!

"I'm sorry Miss Hockley," He stammered. "If I had known who you were, I wouldn't..."

"Have called me stupid." Isabella finished. "Well, now you know better. I'm obliged to thank you for saving my life, but if you ever say a wrong word out of place again, you'll be out of here." With that, she stormed upstairs to dry off and scream into her pillow in frustration. Darcy stayed on the spot, creating his own pool of water.

"I think you should go off and change clothes," Preston suggested. Darcy nodded obediantly and headed back to servant's quarters. He was a competent and respectful servant but useless regarding social skills with people. It was mostly his father's doing that had gotten him work for such a prestigious family, but he knew he would never become as trusted by the Hockleys as Preston was. His encounter with Miss Hockley was just one example of his inability to hold a proper conversation without insulting somebody. He was just thankful it didn't cost him his job. Hopefully he wouldn't find himself alone with her again for the duration of her stay.

While his daughter recovered from her near death experience, Cal was oblivious to her accident and sat in the front drive, alone with only his thoughts for company. He had instructed nobody to disturb him unless absolutely necessary. As soon as Jocelyn arrived, no doubt his peace would be shattered. He was already contemplating ways to avoid her this vacation. Much like a strong wine, Jocelyn was best taken in moderation. Something which is difficult to accomplish when you are married to them. They both knew that their union was not formed out of love and it suited them perfectly. But Jocelyn did insist on such public displays of their marriage, whether it was at social gatherings, parties or other absurd occasions. At least now, in the private seclusion of their own home, they could be honest about what was really a sham.

As if by magic, a car arrived on the driveway. The Rutherford crest proudly adorned the bonnet and doors of the vehicle. The driver scrambled out and opened the door for Jocelyn, who stepped out wearing what could only be described as a dead ostrich on her head. Cal guessed that her shopping trip had been fruitful. She moved towards him and quickly gave him a kiss, although her hat almost knocked his head backwards.

"Lovely hat," Cal said, not entirely true. It was horribly over-the-top but most of Jocelyn's clothes were. The theory of understatement did not sit well with Jocelyn. "I was wondering what took you so long."

"I'm sorry I'm late but I got preoccupied. You will never guess who I ran into today." She said enthusiastically as her driver struggled to carry all her bags from the car trunk. Cal was about to reply but Jocelyn continued for him. "Glen Moody!"

Cal smiled blankly, having no idea who this Glen Moody was.

"Oh you know who he is. He's the film producer. Well, he was in Macy's buying something for someone, oh I forgot who. Anyway, we got talking and he told me that he's throwing a party tonight right here in the Hamptons and he invited us. So of course I said yes."

"What?"

"Well we don't have to go now. The party starts at 8pm and we're close to his beach-house so we won't have to leave until at least 7:30."

"You know I don't want to go to any parties Jocelyn. I specifically told you that this would be a quiet vacation. We've been to enough parties recently to keep us going for years!" Cal sneered. After only 30 seconds, Jocelyn was already annoying him. "We're not going."

"Don't be a spoilsport Cal." Jocelyn replied, pouting slightly with her over-rouged lips.

"No!" He suddenly screamed, his echo following. "Enough is enough. I am sich of these stupid parties. I have more important things to do with my life than crawl around on the ground kissing other people's arses."

"Oh, that's funny. I thought the Hockleys had been doing that for years." Jocelyn cruelly replied, feeling very proud of herself. "Oh, don't start that nonsense Cal, I know how much you begged my father for those business deals. He's made the Hockley Industries richer than they already were and you know it. It's amazing what a few words to my father can do for a business."

"Are you threatening me?" Cal asked, forcing his face inches from Jocelyn's.

"I'm just saying. I've seen it happen before." She innocently remarked, removing her hat. "We're good together Cal. I don't complain about your incessant business talk or moaning and you ignore my flaws. Not many women would. And I keep your secrets." A pause followed, broken only by the rustling leaves in the wind. "Don't cross me Caledon."

"I am not going to be intimidated by a woman making empty threats." Cal whispered.

"They aren't empty. How would Isabella view her dear father if she knew a few home truths?"

Cal's eyes widened. Jocelyn was right, she knew more about him than anyone else and could cause his downfall in one sentence. The business was his life but his daughter was his heart and soul. If she knew the truth then his life would be destroyed. He shook his head weakly.

"So, you'll be ready by 7?" Jocelyn asked. Cal could do nothing but nod. "Wonderful, darling. I'll be upstairs trying on my new dress." She took Cal's face in her thin hands and kissed his lips the way a true wife embraces her husband. It was completely forced and messy but Jocelyn had the control of the thing and liked it. She walked off inside, leaving a shell-shocked Cal standing outside. Jocelyn was in control of too much for him to refuse her. Before his daughter had arrived, he was a different person. Behaviour like Jocelyn's would not have been tolerated and would have resulted in a violent act. While today, he still had bursts of anger, he was a much more mellow man, more willing to go with the flow of life. Now, he was weaker. He was trapped, unable to live his own life for utter fear of his utopian dream being killed.


	5. Chapter 5

After her father's promise that they would have a peaceful, party free vacation, Isabella was deflated to find herself in a complete stranger's house with other people she had never met, trying to look as if she was entertained. She was irritated with her father for going back on his promise, but she put most of the blame on Jocelyn. She couldn't fail to miss her step-mother's malicious side, unconvincigly hidden behind a courteous smile and several layers of make-up. The age old cliche of the evil step-mother applied scarily well to Jocelyn. Isabella watched her spin around the room, conversing with person after person, everything about her exhuding the qualities of the perfect party guest. In contrast, Caledon, who Isabella saw sitting awkwardly in a crowded corner, couldn't have looked any more unwelcome. He sat stiffly in a chair, dressed smartly in the same tuxedo he had worn to his anniversary party. While Jocelyn laughed, grinned and fit in well with the crowd, Cal didn't even make the effort to smile. Isabella wasn't doing much socialising either. She always kept herself to herself when forced to attend such ghastly events. She didn't even know who's party this was. Apparently somebody involved in film or entertainment. She doubted that he had anything of interest to discuss, these sort of people never did. She'd only been given an hour to prepare for tonight, so she was not as immaculately outfitted as she usually was. Her hair lay limp on her back, still a little damp at the edges thanks to her swimming pool incident. The dress she had carelessly slung into her suitcase prior to leaving was wrinkled at the shoulders, something she attempted to cover up with a silk shawl. While Isabella couldn't have cared less about her appearance under normal circumstances, she despised the prying eyes and gossiping vultures that circled these events and waited patiently for the smallest slip-up in appearance to tear apart. As a Hockley, she was expected to be perfect but she was far from that.

"Hello Miss Hockley,"

Isabella put on her best gracious smile and turned around, ready to greet whatever guest was calling her name. The smile fell when her eyes met with the familiar emerald glow of someone she did not want to be near.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked, preparing to walk away.

"Erm, I just wanted to apologise for earlier today." Darcy mumbled, looking down at his feet like a bashful child. He had dressed for the occasion in an all black suit that was a little worn at the edges but fit him well.

"That doesn't answer my question." Isabella insisted. Darcy had insulted her and the fact that he as saved her life somehow didn't make up for it. She had inherited some sort of stubborn quality from her father. Nobody called her an idiot without paying for it!

"My dad's helping out with the waiter's service and asked me to come along."

"So you're a waiter tonight?"

"No, I'm a guest, just like you." Darcy smiled. "Anyway, I am sorry for calling you stupid. But let's be fair here, I did save your life."

"And called me stupid." She ran her fingers through her hair with boredom.

"I think the saving you thing outweighs the stupid thing."

"But you still called me stupid."

"This conversation isn't really gonna go anywhere. I think that you should be a bit more grateful that I didn't just leave you in there." He pressed on further. "But I'm a good guy and good guys save the damsel in distress, no matter how silly they are."

"Oh, so now I'm silly?" Isabella couldn't believe the cheek of this man.

"See, you're so easily offended!" He laughed and wiped his eyes. "Look, let's just start again from the beginning and pretend you didn't almost drown. Okay?"

Isabella begrudgingly agreed.

"Good," Darcy continued. "Intros first. I'm Darcy Preston, good to meet you." He held out his hand to Isabella who shook it slowly with little enthusiasm.

"Isabella Hockley," She murmered back. Although he seemed like a pleasant enough man, she didn't forget a grudge so easily. But she felt the need to try, if only to make her vacation a little easier. "You're Preston's son? Odd, I've never heard you mentioned before."

"Dad keeps work and family separate." He explained. "But I've been working with him for a while now, doing odd jobs around the garden and pool. You haven't been to the Hamptons for a while so I guess that's why I didn't know who you were. Stupid, I know, since there are millions of photos of you around the place. But I apologised about that already."

"Quite." She mumbled. "Oh God, I hate these places. I don't fit in at all."

"At least you've got a family to back you up. If you tell any of these people you're the butler's son, they look at you like a piece of crap. Gimme a night in the bar any day of the week."

"People are just snobs at these gatherings." Isabella dropped her voice to a level that only Darcy could hear her. "I can't get away with anything here. I once went to a party where I was ridiculed for wearing a trouser suit. But as soon as they find out who my family is, the crawlers come out and practically beg." Isabella sighed. It felt good to talk to somebody about the utter absurdness of these places. Darcy was normal and, dare she admit it, she found his company quite enjoyable.

"Well, ya look nice tonight." He told her. "And I ain't just saying that. You look real swell in that dress. Are you okay? You're looking a bit red in the face."

She blushed a little bit more because she knew he had noticed, even though she felt ridiculous. People always told her she looked lovely, and in more colourful language, but they never had such an effect on her.

"Oh I'm fine. It's just...a little warm in here." She said, trying to laugh.

"You wanna go outside and cool off?" Darcy asked, looking genuinely worried. Isabella was relieved that he was oblivious to the real cause for her blushing.

"No, it's okay. I'll be fine." She insisted as she felt her face cool down a little. "Do you go to these events often?"

"All the time when I'm holding the plate of drinks, not so much as a guest. Servants aren't at the top of the invite lists. But I don't care, I don't cope well with big crowds and stuff like this. Plus they're boring! It's like they all sit around and discuss how they're all fantastic and should rule the rest of the world."

Isabella laughed and ended up making a snorting noise through her nose which made her feel even more embarassed. The flush of red reappeared on her face, much stronger than before. Darcy laughed also but not in a cruel way. He liked watching Isabella act like a normal girl, not a pressurised rich girl. He was definately glad that he'd dragged her from that pool. He wanted to talk to her in a more pleasant place, somewhere without the pretension of this producer's house. He opened his mouth to talk more but was interrupted by a screech that sounded more cat than human.

"Miss Isabella Hockley! I am so glad I found you. You are a difficult little lady to find." The voice came from the host of the party, Glen Moody.

"Oh, hello." She replied.

"Glen Moody, ma'am. Film producer extraordinaire." He boomed.

A man who had helped to debut the cinema in America, Moody sported the most atrociously fake toupee that both Isabella and Darcy had ever seen. It rested upon his head like a skinned feline, drooping at the left side. It was clearly made from some sort of synthetic fabric and Darcy was tempted to pour water over it to see if it would repel the liquid. The scratchy voice matched his robust frame perfectly. Moody was a big man with big dreams and a voice that could break glass. Moody gave Isabella a welcoming, if slightly smothering hug.

"You shouldn't be sulking in a corner with a strange gentleman. You're a guest and I treat my guests well." He turned to Darcy, staring down his nose at him even though they were of equal height. "And you are?" 

"Erm. Well, I'm Darcy Preston." He replied, stumbling with his words. "I came with...well, the head butler. He's my dad. I'm just here."

"Interesting. How proud you must be. Anyway," Moody turned back to Isabella. "I am afraid that I'll have to drag you away from Mr Darcy to some real company." He grabbed Isabella's wrist and coaxed her away from Darcy. They looked at each other briefly before he was lost to the crowd. Isabella made a mental note to apologise to Darcy the next time they met. He deserved much better than what Mr Moody was giving him. Eventually they worked their way around the partiers and met with Cal and Jocelyn, along with a few other people she didn't recognise. Moody did not loosen his fingers around her wrist. The feeling of his chubby, sweaty palms around her skin was grotesque.

"Hello Isabella," Jocelyn smiled, keeping a tight hold around Cal's waist. The pair's faces had contrasting emotions of joy and misery. Isabella couldn't understand why her father didn't just refuse to come. According to her grandmother, Cal had a reputation from his younger days for being a real party animal. She found this image unfamiliar and rather funny, her father wasn't anything like that, or at least he hadn't been since before she had been born.

"Hello father." Isabella said, ignoring her step-mother. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Ecstatically." He mumbled, sliding Jocelyn's arm from his body. He didn't want his wife near him, not after her outburst of malice earlier. He was afraid of her. It sounded so weak but he would have crawled on the ground if it kept Isabella's origins hidden. He had suffered a real downfall in control since his Playboy days but he would never swap his daughter for that.

"I was just telling your parents about the movie-business." Moody edged in. Isabella wanted to snap and correct him that Jocelyn was in no way related to her except by convenient matrimony but Moody boomed on. As his mouth exagerrated each syllable, droplets of spit flew from his overgrown cheeks. "It's all very exciting. I recently single-handedly financed this hilarious comedy filmed in Los Angeles. I am not kidding, it was so funny I almost choked!" He laughed hard, as if to prove his point. "It won't be long before we can put sound into the film, have the actors talk. We're working on them now. There's this fantastic actor called Al Jolson who's working on a talkie now! It's gonna be the biggest thing in entertainment ever! Then maybe one day there will be colour and all these magical things that nobody ever thought of before. What do you think, little Izzy? Isn't this all exciting?"

Isabella raised her eyebrows. Did this man just call her Izzy? "My name is Isabella. And I'm afraid I must disagree. I think that the motion picture is highly overrated. While I respect the hard work that went into it's development, I find the idea of film taking over rather frightening. Nothing can be more creative or imaginative than the literary works of this milennium and I don't think a camera will ever capture that. As for the comedy, it's not very amusing to me. I much prefer Austen's grace to Chaplin's pratfalls."

Cal 's face turned into a proud grin as he watched Moody fume with shock at Isabella's comment.

"Having said that, I thourougly enjoyed Nosferatu. F.W. Murnau has a real eye for vision, despite his obvious plagiarism of Stoker. Have you ever financed any of his films?" She asked.

Moody paused, suddenly becoming very interested in the bottom of his glass. "No," He eventually mumbled. "I didn't enjoy the film myself. Too...weird."

"Who said weird was a bad thing?" Isabella smirked.

"Well, that's you told Moody! One of the strangers laughed. "Maybe your newest film will tickle her fancy more."

"Ah yes. Well, Miss Hockley, you may be interested to know that I am putting $2 million into a new movie. It will be entitled Tragedy: The Story of the Titanic! I imagine it will be right up your alley. After all, your daddy was there!"

Cal looked horrified. The stupid loudmouth must have read the original papers from after the sinking because he had never told anybody outside of his family since that he was on the ship. He turned to his daughter who seemed perplexed.

"Sorry? I don't think you have the right person, my father hates sailing, he's never been on a boat before. Haven't you?" She only had to look at the tremble in his mouth to know he was lying.

"I think it's time for us to leave." Cal said, signalling Isabella towards the door. They parted from the crowd and Jocelyn without saying goodbye. Isabella heard the sniggers of contempt from Moody and his cackling crowd. Even Jocelyn seemed to join in. Cal and Isabella walked out into the open air, where the night had taken over the sky and a chill in the wind made her shake.

"Isabella," Cal started, signalling to their driver and the car. "I guess I should tell you about the Titanic."

"Why did you hide it from me?" She asked. Her father was always so open with her, she couldn't comprehend why he would hide such a small thing from him. The Titanic was such a huge event in history, every year there wa sa memorial service in New York to commemorate the sinking. The pair stepped into their car and Cal addressed the driver to take them home.

"Isabella, it was a long time ago. I didn't think it was important." Cal reasoned. He seemed nervous and his eyes fluttered more than usual.

"Then why hide it? Are you scared of something?"

"No, it's not that. I just don't like to bring it up. It was one of the most terrifying nights of my life, I was inches from death. If it wasn't for...well, it was a night I won't be forgetting in a hurry." Cal tried to calm himself. He was panicking now and finding it hard to control.

"I can't imagine what it must have been like." Isabella whispered. She had seen pictures of the ship on it's maiden voyage. It was truly a work of art in motion. "Was it a beautiful ship?"

"It was...stupendous." Cal admitted. He closed his eyes and instantly remembered little details he hadn't thought about in over a decade. "The 1st class deck was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. There was so much luxury on one ship I could hardly take it all in. To be quite honest, I didn't appreciate it back then. I was a brat. All I thought about was money and getting my hands on my inheritence. To me, going on the Titanic was just another journey, but it had to be as luxurious as possible. I took it all for granted. Of course I did, I had had the best of everything all my life and this was no different. My ticket cost the same as about 20 of the 3rd class passengers. I wanted the best and I got it. All the 1st class passengers were like that, rich and spoilt and proud of it. That woman you met at the anniversary party, Molly Brown? I met her on the Titanic. She was a brash woman, not what we were used to. She spoilt things for me a little bit. All I cared about was myself. But when that ship hit that iceberg..." He trailed off and looked back at his daughter. She urged him to continue, yet he didn't want to reveal too much. He never hid anything from her, other than the obvious, because it felt too wrong. He didn't have a very good relationship with his own father because of a lack of communication, something that had started in youth and continued throughout his life. He had always sworn, long before Isabella arrived, that things would change when he had his own children. Now, as they sat together in the car, the empty roads passing by them, he felt a sense that it was good to tell his daughter about the ship, with a few details omitted. He wanted to be honest but not that honest.

"You don't have to go on if you don't want to. I understand it must have been...well, horrifying." She said, putting a comforting hand on her father's shoulder. "Can I just ask one question?" Call nodded slowly. "Was I there with you? I would have been what, 3 or 4 years old. I don't remember anything of it if I was but...sometimes I have dreams. Dreams where I'm on a boat and I'm alone. There's a lot of screaming and panicking and I'm just sitting there crying. Did you take me on there?"

"No," He replied a little too soon. "No, you were in New York with your grandparents. I had to go to England to sort out some personal things." He didn't want to consider what would happen if she found out the truth. "Do you dream about that often?"

"Well, it's nothing. It's probably completely unrelated. It doesn't matter." She said. It was a coincidence though. Maybe it wasn't the Titanic in her dream. Why would it be? She'd never been on the ship and had not known of her father's connection until tonight. Her fear of water must have been some silly thing that had been created inside her head for no reason. She shuffled over and hugged her father, silently praying thank you that he had survived. She didn't know what she would have done without him in her life.

They sat closely together until they arrived home. Isabella headed straight to bed while Cal sat in the drawing room, looking at the many pictures of Isabella on his desk. They were a timeline of her life, from age 4 to 17. He always took pictures of her, as if he was going to forget what she looked like one morning. Inside one of the drawers, that he kept locked up, was a picture of Isabella sleeping. He had taken it 2 days after the Titanic sunk. She was so tiny, a shaking leaf with bundles of bushy hair tucked under a ragged hat. She had cried constantly ever sinced they had entered the life-boat together. That was the first time she had slept since he had taken her to his home. He asked her what her name was but she just continued to sob and tighten her hold on him. As she slept, he had thought of what would come of her. He couldn't just dump her in an orphanage, he owed so much to her. They had saved each-other and Isabella had given him so much more than that. He vowed to raise her as his own because she deserved a father who would do anything just to see her smile. The Titanic gave him the best thing in his life.


	6. Chapter 6

Isabella had a dreamless sleep that night and awoke feeling refreshed. She opened her eyes and immediately felt relieved that the dark water hadn't been in her mind throughout the night. Her father's confession about his past appearance on the most infamous disaster of the century had surprised her, leaving her to wonder about her own past. The images of claustrophobic corridors and panicking hoards of passengers fit unusually well with her father's tale. Although she had no complete memory of her life before the age of 5, her dreams felt like fragments of some part of her life. They affected her present life, such as her inability to go near open water, so they must have been the result of something huge in her past. Her mind wandered uncontrollably onto things that couldn't be true, questions of her father's priorities. Ridiculous, she murmured. If her father had said she wasn't on the ship, then she obviously wasn't Her father didn't lie to her, he was always completely truthful about the world to her, a rarity amongst her friends' parents. Isabella shook her head, feeling a little ashamed of herself for even considering such negativity towards her father. He had experienced something traumatic, it was little wonder that he didn't want to discuss it.

Today was officially, for Isabella, the first day of her vacation. She intended to do nothing strenuous for as long as possible. If that horrid Jocelyn even mentioned the word 'party' then she would just walk away and pretend she didn't hear her. From the moment her father had brought Miss Rutherford into the family home, Isabella, at the time the tender age of 7, had felt some sort of inner tension directed towards the woman. Maybe it was something to do with the way she seemed to wrap Cal around her bony fingers like one of her ridiculously expensive fur stoles. Or it could have been related to her completely fake joy at the prospect of gaining a step-daughter. Isabella was young at the time, but even she knew a liar when she saw one. The signs had been obvious - the white knuckles from holding on too tightly to her scarf, the fidgeting with her over decorated fingers, a smile so large it resembled a painted clown. Jocelyn would call Isabella 'a cherub' and 'a complete darling' all the way through her engagement to Cal, yet the moment the diamond ring was on her finger, Jocelyn stopped the compliments. She actually tried to stop contact with Isabella as much as possible, a task when you live together. Isabella didn't mind being a non-existant being in her step-mother's eyes. She had nothing in common with the woman and despised the way she acted towards her father. At least she didn't insist on Isabella calling her 'mother.' She couldn't even remember her own mother but didn't want to taint any memory of her by letting that woman take her place. Isabella pondered. Maybe that was the reason Jocelyn was so vile in her eyes.

Isabella was so excited at the prospect of having a proper vacation, she ran downstairs in her pyjamas. The housekeepers kept to themselves, making sure they stayed busy around the immense house. It was yet another beautiful Summer day outside, let into the house by the maids pulling back the countless curtains. The beach would be too crowded for Isabella to enjoy any real peace and quiet so she decided to avoid it and stay at home.

After picking up some cereal from the kitchen, she carried it into the studio and sat next to the piano. While her instrument in the city was black, this piano was ivory white and a classical design quite similar to her other one back home. It sat proudly next to the window, too early in the day to have met the sun. The ultra smooth panels and shiny surfaces were the complete opposite of the rest of the design of the studio, full of plush furnishings and deep colours. Nothing in this room, except for the piano, had changed in the past 40 years. Her grandfather had inherited the house from his family, a long line of socialites and businessmen of different varieties. Despite their varying tastes, Isabella always felt comfortable in this house. It was a place where she didn't have to conform or go out of her way to please people. The studio especially was her haven, the room where she had full reign. Her father had promised that she could have her own haven to rule over and fill with music. She ran her fingers across the striped keys of ebony and ivory. Swaying into her padded stool, Isabella immediately began to immerse herself in the notes her hands seemed to effortlessly form. She didn't need her sheet music, she had played this piece so many times that all she had to do was play the opening bars and every note appeared before her eyes. It wasn't just a piece of music, it was a part of her. If somebody took music from her life, it would be like chopping off one of her arms. She wouldn't know what to do with herself, life would certainly be much less interesting.

Isabella didn't even need to keep her eyes open as she played. Eventually, she became so engrossed with the movements of her fingers and the echoes vibrating into her body, that her entire body flowed with the music. She flipped her head back rather dramatically as the notes crept up higher and higher. The highest notes were barely distinguishable to her ears but she tapped at them anyway, knowing that all music can be beautiful. Her perfect ending to the piece was spoiled by a tap on her shoulder. Instead of finishing on a long chord, she forced her startled hands down on several keys, creating a shuddering sound. While normally Isabella would be irritated at being disturbed, she was rather happy to see Darcy again.

"Oops, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your big finish," He smiled. His attire was back to it's normal working style, covered in grass stains with worn out holes at the knees. Darcy had gravity defying hair that resembled a burnt bush with stray Autumn leaves at every corner.

"It's okay," Isabella replied, not knowing what else to say. She closed the lid on the piano keys.

"Oh, don't stop on my account. You're good. I'm no expert on stuff like classical music but you make is sound pretty interesting."

"Of course it's interesting. All music is. It might not always be good but it's always interesting."

"I guess. I don't really listen to a lot of music. But the other maids and house staff love listening to jazz records in the dorms when they ain't working. That's pretty swell." Darcy smiled, fidgeting with his hands. He had just been planting some new flowers when he had heard the music and was afraid to place his hands down anywhere in the room for fear of making a mess.

"I don't really care much for jazz. It's too unpredictable for me, all that improvisation and quick thinking, it's not for me. I prefer to have a set piece to play, it's easier and much more beautiful."

"Each to their own, I guess." Darcy scratched his head. Silence followed. Isabella tapped the piano lid as a replacement for the real keys, imagining the notes in her head as she tapped the solid wood.

"I'm sorry for last night, I really didn't want to stop talking to you but that imbicile Moody literally dragged me away." She said, turning her head to face Darcy.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I had a good time after you left. I got the hell out of there and went riding." He laughed.

"You ride?"

"Yeah, I have my own horse. I keep him in the field behind your houses' garden. I'm better with horses than I am with humans. They don't ask you to parties or judge you. As long as you feed, brush and clean them, they don't care what you wear."

"Wow." She sighed. Darcy looked at her pensively then, as if struck by a momeny of genius, took Isabella's hand gently and coaxed her up from the stool.

"Come on, I wanna introduce you to somebody." He grinned, leading Isabella out into the early morning air. Preston observed from an open window as his son and his boss' only child ran off together through the back courtyard towards the secluded field. Like any parent he worried about his son's welfare yet he felt a twinge of concern for Isabella too. It was the top priority of each and every worker under the Hockley's employment that their sole child be kept safe. preston was one of a select few who could be trusted with the secret of Isabella's origins. He had been there, serving drinks in Nathan Hockley's home, when Cal had carried the sobbing little girl into their home. As a loyal worker and close friend of the Hockleys, he would never dream of ruining their happiness. He knew what it was like to lose someone dear to him, his wife was always in his thoughts, God rest her soul. To spoil Cal's love for that girl would be wrong. But that was not his main worry. Like every father, and every servant, he disapproved of the thought of a 17 year old girl and a 33 year old man enjoying each other's company, no matter how innocent it was. Preston just hoped that Darcy had more sense than he seemed to have and didn't inherit any of his father's youthful playboy attitudes.

After running for a few minutes, Isabella and Darcy reached the vast, open field that covered land as far as the eye could see. The land had been farmed and was now devoid of the golden sheafs of corn that normally grew. Instead the trampled ground revealed the grass-short stalks that still sat in the ground. Next to the field sat a shack-like building built from several different types of wood. Isabella knew it seemed rude and snobbish, but the powerful smell of animal manure that filled the air was too foul to ignore and she had to cover her nose. Darcy shook his head with his cheeky grin on his face. There was something almost quaint about Isabella's actions. While she was obviously different from the other society daughters he surveyed around the Hamptons, Miss Hockley was clearly a novice to such situations that he considered normal. They continued to walk, the mud beneath their feet becoming ever more sticky and creeping it's way up their legs, and eventually stopped at the hut.

"Here we are," Darcy said. "Sorry about your clothes, but if it makes you feel any better, I'll most likely be the one cleaning them later!"

"Don't worry," She sighed with exhaustion. "They weren't expensive." That was a lie and Darcy knew it, but he appreciated the sentiment.

"Just wait here," Darcy pushed his legs through the mud, creating trails of prints in his path, and disappeared into the hutch. Isabella waited tentatively as she listened to the rustles and peculiar stomping noises that echoed from inside. Darcy didn't step out alone, instead he was accompanied by a beautiful horse, the colour of melted chocolate. It's perfectly brushed mane was a few shades darker, each strand perfectly brushed, while it's tail had been plaited and moved like a whip from left to right. Darcy seemed perfectly at ease as he straddled the animal, taking great care not to hurt it. He held a helmet in his hand but did not put it on.

"Izzy, meet Lizzy." He grinned, stroking the horse's neck. "My dad thought it was a great joke to name her Elizabeth but I haven't even read Pride And Prejudice!"

"She's beautiful," Isabella's eyes widened. She wanted to move towards the horse cautiously but the mud made that impossible, changing her movements from careful to clumsy.

"Yep, I look after her better than I look after myself. She deserves it." He threw down the helmet to Isabella, who just caught it by the tips of her fingers. "Get that on and jump up. I'll take you on a tour."

"On the horse?" 

"Yeah, it'll bne fun. You can just hold on to me and I'll hold the reins. You ever been on a horse before?"

"No."

"Then you haven't lived Izzy!" He held out a hand to her. "Grab it and stick your foot into that bit there," He signalled towards the stirrup on the right side.

Isabella took a deep breath and grabbed Darcy's hand. She had never been a fan of outdoor activities as a child, instead preferring to remain in her house with her beloved piano. She had thought about joining in with her school-mates when she first went to school. But after years of orders not to dirty her clothes and ruin her expensive possessions, she gave up any desire to venture to the park with her friends and obsessively played music throughout her 14 years. Maybe it was time to enjoy the simpler things for a while. With one great pull, she managed to balance herself onto the back of Lizzy, both legs on the right hand side.

"Oh no, you ain't getting away with that fancy side saddle stuff. Both legs over." Darcy exclaimed. Isabella's eyes widened further. It seemed as if all courtesy was being tossed away. Using the saddle as a grip, she twisted her body around suffuciently so that her left leg could find it's way across to the other side. She couldn't imagine how absurd a sight she must have looked, thank god her father wasn't here! With both legs in place, she wobbled uncomfortably.

"See, not so bad, is it? Right, got a tight hold?" Isabella quickly wrapped her arms around Darcy's waist, the only way she could ensure a safe trip. The close contact was awkward to say the least, but it was much more preferrable to falling on her face.

"And we're off." Darcy announced proudly. Lizzy trotted immediately at a speed Isabella didn't expect. Her grip tightened around Darcy, who only seemed happy to be in her company. They rode forward, Darcy in complete control of their path, exploring the Hamptons. He took Isabella to areas that even she had never seen before. It was such a beautiful day, warm but not overbearingly so, made even more so enjoyable by their journey. To end their travels, they stopped at the beach, but not the tourist filled areas packed to the brim. Instead, the entire stretch was empty. The countless grains of dirty white sand met with the uninviting frosty blue of the sea which in turn created the horizon with the cloud-less topaz sky. Isabella stared in awe at the beach, wondering how it was possible that something so beautiful could be kept a secret. Darcy gently pulled on Lizzy's reins and she stopped moving.

"End of the line." Darcy leapt expertly from the saddle, holding Lizzy still. "Jump off."

Isabella took a little longer to dismount, her bottom unaccustomed to the constant bouncing that accompanied horse riding. She had enjoyed herself but the aches were very off-putting towards the prospect of a future journey. When her feet eventually found the ground, she gave Lizzy a pat in the head as a thank you for keeping her safe. It would have been unsuitable to pat Darcy for doing the same thing!

"Don't worry, your ass gets used to it after a few goes!" Darcy laughed. Isabella didn't approve of the use of such an impolite word but was preoccupied trying to keep her wobbling legs supporting her body. "Isn't this place beautiful? Me and the other staff come here as much as we can. It's gonna be turned into a stupid resort of some sort in a few months so we're enjoying the peace while we can."

"I didn't know there was a deserted piece of beach in the Hamptons. It doesn't sound plausible."

"Yeah, I know. Oh well, it won't be for much longer." Darcy sat down onto the soggy sand, looking out to the ocean. Isabella decided to join him. For several minutes, there was no conversation between the pair, only the frantic dancing of the waves keeping them company.

"You don't say much, do you?" Darcy finally spoke. They both smiled.

"Sorry, I'm not very interesting." Isabella had no idea why she felt the need to apologise but it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Sure you are. You're a socialite with a musical fetish, that's ten times more interesting than a servant born and bred. Come on, tell me about yourself. We can't just watch the sea for a few hours."

"Inquisitive type, aren't you?" Isabella smirked. "There's really not much to tell. I go to a private school, I'm hoping to study music at university if father will allow me, and I'm obligated to attend countless parties to keep my family name in the spotlight." A sigh followed her statement. "It's a tough job. And what about you?"

"Just as riveting, I'm afraid. My dad's been working for the Hockleys since I can remember. I hated school so left as soon as I could. Then I decided to go to Chicago to find fame and fortune, but ended up broke with no future. Luckily, my dad let me come here and work as the gardener and servant. I owe him everything, he's the greatest dad."

"I'm sure everybody says that about their fathers. I certainly do. My father has always been the most wonderful man. He's so...I can't even begin to describe."

"My dad was kinda like your dad's nanny when he was younger." Darcy informed Isabella. "Apparently he liked to party."

"So I've heard. Also apparently he was quite the man about town. But I can't see it when I'm around him now. He's always been so kind and completely despises the party scene. It's so baffling for me, I just cannot contemplate my father as anything other than what he is now. He says he was spoilt and...a horrid human being, but I refuse to believe that. My father is none of those things. He raised me to be the best I could be and he'll always be my father. I'm his daughter though, I'm not capable of giving an unbiased opinion! People change and grow up. Fatherhood does that, or so I'm told."

"Do you know anything about his past?"

"Well, I recently discovered that my father was a passenger on the Titanic." 

Darcy looked surprised yet kept his calming grin. "Wow."

"It was a surprise for me too. Odd, he never told me about it until last night, and even then it was only because somebody mentioned it beforehand. Father doesn't usually keep secrets from me, but this is a little different I guess. The weirdest thing is...I feel like I was part of it. As absurd as it sounds, I sometimes have these dreams where I can see this dark water and everybody around me is terrified and I feel like I'm going to die. I might be crazy for all I know, but when father told me about the Titanic, it seemed to fit with everything. I read a book where they talked about this phenomenon in the brain that results when you supress memories. It feels similar to that, like I've been to a place but can only remember it when my brain allows it. But I was never on the ship, maybe father told me as a child and I forgot. Or maybe I'm psychic!" She laughed, her eyes full of thoughtfulness.

"My dad used to be really wild when he was younger too. Mom calmed him down though, God rest her soul. I miss her like mad..." Darcy paused out of respect for the most important woman in his life.

"Do you miss your mother?"

"Yeah, like mad. I just don't feel the same without her. She was always so kind and light-hearted. She could make a joke out of everything, even when it wasn't right to do so. But she had a rough few years before her death. Stomach cancer, left her as a shell of her former self. But she's at peace now and I'm happy for that. I hated seeing her in pain."

"What was her name?"

"Melissa Preston. My dad called her Molls. What was your mother called?"

Isabella instinctively went to reply, but with a horrified shudder, she realised that she didn't know. She had no idea what her own mother's name was! How on earth was that possible? Her father barely mentioned her existence throughout her life. She never played a part in her life except for bringing her into it. While she could understand her father being too distraught with grief to want to discuss her, it was simply baffling not to even tell Isabella her name.

"You okay?" Darcy asked. Isabella hadn't realised how long she had been silent for. Unable to form words, she simply nodded. "Maybe we should be heading back?" She nodded again and quickly stood up. She didn't care that her slacks were saturated with mud and sand, or that the ache in her bottom had not receded. More important matters needed to be dealt with.

Throughout the entire journey back home, Isabella searched through the memories of her entire life and not one of them contained her mother. She couldn't decipher who she was for she did not know what she looked like. According to her grandparents, whom she bore no physical resemblence to, her mother looked much like Isabella. Yet there wasn't even a fragment of a memory in her mind. Why did her father distance himself and Isabella so much from her mother? It seemed as if a lot of skeletons had been tumbling out of the Hockley closet lately.

Darcy decided to make a dramatic entrance in front of the Hockley mansion with both Isabella and Lizzy. Several maids ran out to greet them, not sure whether to laugh or be shocked. The pair dismounted and tried to wipe away some of the dried flecks of dirt from their clothes. Preston ran outside, clearly angry with his son.

"Get that thing back to the stable!" He yelled. Darcy jumped back onto Lizzy and waved to Isabella, who repeated the greeting with a grateful smile. He rode away back to the hut, leaving a trail of dust in his path. The maids applauded their fellow worker's stupidity, knowing he would face the consequences when he returned.

"Back to work." Preston ordered and everybody hurried back inside. "Miss Hockley, I've been asked by your father to inform you that your grandparents will be arriving tonight to discuss a rather important matter. He has requested that you er..." He inspected her less than formal attire. "Dress smartly. Mr and Mrs Hockley will arrive around 8."

"Thank you Preston." Isabella replied, before feeling the need to add something else. "Will you punish Darcy for this?"

"I have to, he didn't do his duties today and will have his salary docked for today. It would only be fair. Now, I think you'd better go change." 

Isabella nodded and ran into the house. She had a million things scrambling for attention in her mind that she couldn't organise. Her grandparents' surprise visit only complicated matters. She knew why they were coming. Her father desired that the family business be signed over as soon as possible. He had been in a state of unrest ever since they had arrived in the Hamptons. This was probably the only way he could finally relax. For Isabella, she did not know how she would ever relax until she at least knew something about her elusive mother.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: I am so sorry that this took so long to be updated, I had tons of problems at school that unfortunately delayed chapter 6. After this, I'll try and be quicker! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I want to thank every single person who has read this story, each review and alert made means a lot to me!


	7. Chapter 7

Wearing one of the dresses she had hastily packed into her suitcase prior to leaving, Isabella stood in the hallway with her father, Jocelyn and the housekeeping staff, patiently waiting for her grandparents to arrive. It was one of the most uncomfortable pieces of clothing she owned, even by her own dress hating standards. The incredibly thin jewelled straps embedded themselves into her shoulders. It took all of her years of lady-like practice not to rearrange her underwear with her fingers! She surveyed the seemingly never-ending row of servants trying to find Darcy. He must have been serving his punishment somewhere else in the house, or down collecting manure in the horse shack. She hoped that he was okay. For no real understandable reason, Isabella had grown quite fond of Darcy Preston, despite their differences in age and status. It was a welcome change to be associated with someone who honestly did not care about her family name or the money that came along with it. She desperately needed to talk to her father. The revelation that she did not even know the name of the woman who gave birth to her was pressing in her thoughts and she needed the matter to be resolved as soon as possible.

Cal stood next to her, trying to hide his less than calm demeanour. Tonight had to go perfectly or the entire Hockley business could be broken down in a matter of moments. Even worse, if his father's fondness for drink took centre stage as it had done more and more over the months, Nathan could yet again open his growling mouth and spill something foul. Nathan's life had become an insect like state. He had transformed from a respectable and cold gentleman into a slurring, incompotent mess. For the greater good, and his own selfish desires, Cal knew he needed his father's signature on the forms that sat inside his briefcase. The Hockely family name would conitune, but in the more controversial form of father and daughter.

Jocelyn revelled in the thought of the impending take-over. While being the wife of an heir had it's advantages in the social scene of New York, his promotion would certainly lead to a step up the sociality ladder. Coupled with her own family name, Jocelyn could easily become the Queen of Manhattan. The even better prospect of becoming a business partner was also in her mind. She would have the inevitable months of learning the trade, all of which meant little to her, but then her power would be incomprehensible. Somehow she doubted Cal would be ecstatic at this prospect, but he could hardly refuse a woman with such knowledge of his life.

"Father," Isabella whispered, looking up at his trembling bottom lip. He directed his eyes towards her own. "I need to ask you something."

"We'll talk tomorrow darling." He replied. "It isn't the best time now.!

"It'll only take a moment. What was my mother's first name?"

Cal turned his head, a perplexed look twisted in his face. Now was not the moment for Isabella to realise that fourteen years of sketchy details about her childhood were unsubstantial. He took great care to avoid the subject altogether but not much regarding the actual 'information' he allowed to be discussed. How something as silly as the phantom mother's name had never come up before was a baffling blessing.

"What?" He exclaimed, not knowing what else to say.

"I don't know my mother's name. I don't recall you ever telling me it and I'm confused. It's such a silly thing, but I really want to know."

Cal didn't know what to say. He couldn't think of a single name that seemed to fit the image of his supposed deceased wife. Truth be told, he couldn't remember how he had described her to Isabella. Only a handful of women had made an impact on his life, and none of them ever received the adoration he gave his daughter. One had come close, she had rejected him and he never forgot that stabbing feeling. If Isabella rejected him then life was over. He didn't want to be silent any longer, it seemed suspicious, so he said the only name he could think of.

"Rose," He said. "Her name was Rose."

"That's a pretty name." Isabella simply replied, her curiosity satisfied in a matter of seconds. Immediately after the name left Cal's lips, he wished he hadn't picked that name. The name of the one woman who broke his heart was not the right choice for his child's mother, yet it seemd to revert her back to silence which was a relief.

The familiar hum of the Hockley car increased in volume as it slowed down on the pebbles of the driveway. Both Isabella and Cal took a deep breath, filling their lungs in the hope that it would calm their shaking hands, while Jocelyn kept her steely-cold smile frozen on her face. Preston and anoher servant grabbed the pewter handles and pulled open the doors with a grunt. The car's unnaturally bright headlights created a silhouette around the pair, leaving them with the appearance of two rather unfortunate deers on a midnight road. The lights disappeared in a blink and left Nathan and Lucille standing in the doorway, both grinning happily. Cal doubted that his father's apparent joy was unrelated to intoxication. Like the loyal son he was supposed to be, Cal hugged his father, smelling the whiskey from the moment of contact, then did the same with his thankfully sober mother. Lucille quickly kissed Jocelyn's over-rouged cheeks then moved towards Isabella with a much more welcoming hug. The pair enjoyed each-ther's company immensly. Lucille was like any other woman her age and doted on her grand-daughter. Having had no daughter of her own, she compensated for those missing years by spoiling Isabella. She really was one of the best things that could have happened to Cal. It was a shame that Nathan was less than enthusiatic regarding the matter himself.

"Cal! Cal, Cal, Caledon James Hockley!" Nathan bellowed. The stench of his breath hit Cal's face like a sudden gust of wind. "Good to see you son. Sorry to come up on such short notice."

"I was the one that invited you father." Cal reminded him. It would have been surprising if the man could remember the previous day's events, the state he was in was disgusting. His thinning hair was a mess that had sloppily been arranged into a barely presentable style, while his clothes were creased and stained with some sort of liquid. He didn't want to get too close to check but Nathan's eyes had a stained border of yellow around the iris. Cal bore more than a passing resemblance to his father and he shuddered at the thought of one day turning into this man. "But it's still good to see you."

"Yes, well couldn't let you stay in my house without a quick visit." Nathan continued, shuffling towards Jocelyn. "And it's good to see you too gorgeous!" He embraced Jocelyn with a stifling hug, who kept a gracious smile on her face despite her disgust.

"Isabella," Nathan said, turning to the teenager who fumbled with her dress strap. "The Hockley heir." Cal did not approve of the way his father practically spat out the words and would discuss it with him later.

"Hello grandpa." Isabella smiled. Nathan ignored her greeting and made his way into the dining room. Lucille gave Isabella another hug and they followed Nathan together, Cal and Jocelyn behind them. Cal knew it would take a lot of coffee to sober up his father long enough to sign the papers. It promised to be a long night.

Dinner was everything Cal thought it would be and even more. He had prepared for Nathan's arrival by locking up all the alcohol he knew Nathan kept in the house but he had noy expected the old man to bring his own hip flask which he subsequently drank from all night without any consideration for others. The flask seemed to be bottomless, or Nathan was so drunk he didn't realise it was empty. Neither option was surprising to Cal. Dinner had been served earlier much to Nathan's dismay who decided to insult every servant who approached him. He enjoyed having such immunity, nobody dared to cross him because he could ruin their lives in one word. Cal suffered with those same thoughts, hoping Cal would keep his mouth shut about Isabella. He kept the same fears over Jocelyn too, who seemed to be the only sober person enjoying herself. He shuddered to think what passed through her mind, knowing only that it wouldn't be pleasant. Isabella kept to herself, only joining in with the conversation when somebody addressed her. She preferred to think about her mother. Armed with a name - the beautiful sounding Rose Hockley - she tried to imagine what she was like. Somehow, she saw a woman who looked like she did but much more radiant. It was a comforting idea, one that made her feel surprisingly content. Meanwhile, Darcy still hadn't appeared and, while she cared for his well-being, her sudden interest in him was a little unsettling. She tried to appear interested in her grandfather's conversation but his indecipherable mumblings made it impossible. Instead, she beckoned Preston over from his statue-like position next to the serving cart, poised to serve. He brought over a wine bottle - Isabella was allowed a rare glass every now and then, although she never drank it.

"Would you like a glass Miss Hockley?" Preston asked.

"No thank you Preston." She whispered back. Preston leaned in closer to her face to hear better. "I actually wanted to ask you where Darcy is."

"He is in the horse shack, shovelling piles of manure as his punishment."

"I wanted to ask you about that too. I really don't think it's fair that Darcy was punished. It was all my fault really, I distracted him from his work and it was me that he spent the day with. I didn't mean for Darcy to be punished for my actions." Isabella whispered, tripping over her words slightly. She pondered for a moment why she was so eager to stand up for Darcy but the only possible answer didn't seem plausible.

"It's very noble of you to say so Miss Hockley. But with all due respect, Darcy had to be punished. No offence meant but my son is perfectly capable of deciding his own actions. He chose not to attend to his duties and had to be shown the consequences of doing so. Plus he is at an advantage with the other staff. Wouldn't it seem unfair to the other servants if the son of the head butler was not disciplined?" 

"Oh..." Isabella sighed. She knew he was right, so nodded.

"Don't worry, Darcy has cleaned out those shacks so many times that he's used to it." Preston smiled and straightened his back. Jocelyn, ever the inquisitive one, took a less than polite interest in Isabella's queries.

"What were the pair of you gossiping about?" She asked, making sure everyone in the room heard her. Isabella didn't scowl at her step-mother but her expression came danderously close to forming one.

"Nothing of your concern."

"Oh don't be shy Isabella. Preston, what were you talking about?" Jocelyn addressed the butler. He couldn't not reply.

"Miss Hockley was asking about my son, Mrs Hockley." Preston replied.

"Ah yes, the lovely Darcy. I saw him take you away earlier Isabella. What did you both get up to? You were away for hours." It was at this point that Cal took notice.

"You did what?" He exclaimed. He did not want to contemplate the image of his daughter, still a little girl in his eyes, running off with a man twice her age doing god knows what. "What did you do together?" He continued. His tone was strong and demanded answers.

"Father, it wasn't anything bad." Isabella tried to reassure her father. "Darcy took me to see his horse then we went riding to the beach together. We had a lovely, peaceful time and I don't want the memory of it spoiled by this pointless investigation."

"Well, looks like the tyke is growing up!" Nathan interrupted, taking another long swig from his hipflask. "I never would have imagined her being so chatty and grown up when she was a bushy haired kid. Moany little bitch she was too."

The room froze. Even the servants stopped what they were doing. Isabella didn't know what to do or where to look. Her grandfather had slowly turned into a monster through her lifetime with the help of alcohol. When she was a child, he used to sit her on his knee and bounce her up and down over and over until they both collapsed with laughter. Looking at the yellow faced man who sat in front of her now, it was hard to believe they were both the same person.

Cal couldn't take it anymore. His father had outstepped the boundaries. He was going to force him to sign those forms now then cut off all ties from him. While his own child was not his by blood, he cared for Isabella more than Nathan ever did for him. While Nathan Hockley was drunk, he wasn't fit to look after anything, be that a business of a family. Cal stood up and moved towards Nathan, placing his hand heavily onto his shoulder.

"Father, now I think it would be best for us to go upstairs and discuss the business arrangements." He said sternly, trying to remain calm. All he wanted to do was flip over that immense antique table - even though his body could never manage that - and release all his bottled up wrath at Nathan. He didn't deserve to be associated with the name Hockley, he brought too much shame to it. Nathan stood up, his smile a sign of how little he care for other's feelings. Cal lead the way out of the room, making a detour past Isabella to give her a reassuring hug before he left.

Nathan collapsed onto the leather couch in the drawing room. Cal wasn't sure how conscious he was, he seemed close ro falling alseep, but as long as he could hold a pen in his hand, he didn't care. He readied the documents that would officially name him as the president of Hockley Industries. Finally, all his aspirations and hopes for the future could be put into action without any meddling from his father or anybody else. The term 'family business' would re-apply to the Hockley Industries once more.

"Well, everything's ready father." Cal said. "If you'll just sign these forms then..." How do you end that sentence, he thought. 'Then I never want to see you again?' 'Then you need to leave our lives and die in some bar away from us all?' His sense of decency was the only thing that restrained his darker side. It was the only thing that kept him sane at the best of times, as well as his little girl. Nathan staggered over to the table, steadying himself against Cal as he took the pen in his shaking hand and signed his illegible signature on the dotted lines.

"Ya know, I'm gonna miss being head of it all." Nathan said as he finished signing the first page. Cal showed him the second one and he continued singing. "It's like my second child, I've spent so long looking after it and now it's out of my hands. I spent more time at work than I did with you and your mom."

"I know." Cal rolled his eyes. He didn't need his less than happy childhood dragged into an already complicated equation. He turned to the final page. He had already signed the documents earlier.

"I'm getting too old for this shit now. Too bored. It isn't the same thing I started with anymore. I can't bear to sit in those board meetings now. But you'll do fine, you've always been good at what you do, even when you were a spoilt playboy brat." With a flick of the fountain pen, Nathan finished signing and tossed the pen onto the table. "Congratulations Cal." He held out a sweaty hand which Cal reluctantly shook. "So, what's next for Hockley Industries?"

"I don't think now is the best time to discuss this." Cal mumbled weakly. Now the moment had finally arrived, he din't know how to react. Maybe he should wait until morning to kick Nathan out of his life. But he also wanted to punish him for ridiculing his daughter, the most important thing on this world. "But I do want an apology for what you said about Isabella."

"What? What did I do?"

"Oh don't act like the innocent one father. You know exactly what you said about her. You called her a bitch."

"Oh pish, it was just a joke. I call you a moody bastard all the time and I don't hear you complaining." Nathan laughed, a sickening bellow that filled the room and Cal's ears. "You need to lighten up. You'll fit right in with those stiff necked board members. So, now that you're the head, who are you gonna hire as your right hand man?"

Cal stiffened. While Isabella was still too young, he fully intended to give her the position the moment she turned eighteen. People would gossip about favouritism, but he didn't care. Isabella was more than compotent enough to be a business-woman and deserved the chance to show the world that. Nathan would no doubt disapprove but he couldn't do anything about it now. Part of him would take great delight in taunting the old man.

"I'm going to bring Isabella in as a board member when she becomes of age." He announced, taking the documents in his hands and holding them close to his chest protectively. Nathan's reaction was just how Cal imagined it, only with more shaking. "She's a wonderfully smart young woman and has a good head for business. She often helps me with transactions and knows more about the industry than I did at her age. She will keep the family name running."

"You must be joking! You can't let that girl near the business!" Nathan spluttered. His hands shook so much that he clasped them together to subside it. "She's too young."

"I was her age when I began working for you."

"Things were different then, you can't let a girl work with you."

"How can you be so sexist about this situation? Isabella is much better than I was at her age, she needs a challenging situation for her life. I don't want to see her wasted in some stupid socialite marriage until she dies."

"God Cal, you've softened up in your old age." Nathan moved around the room, swaying back and forth with each step. "Maybe you should go back to being a skirt-chasing brute without that girl to ruin your life."

"How dare you talk about my daughter like that!" Cal growled, his voice getting louder. He kept it quiet enough so that Isabella would not hear it in the dining room directly below them. Certain things needed to stay controlled.

"She isn't even your real daughter! You picked her up from a dirty floor to save your own skin and don't you deny it! I still can't figure out how she managed to wriggle her way into our life. She ruined it!"

"You ruined our lives! You can't stay sober long enough to run a business, let alone be a real father! Isabella loves me more than I ever cared for you." Cal's anger was seeping through to the surface. It was beginning to get out of his reach and he didn't like the lack of control, but the exhilaration of letting Nathan know how he felt was better than he ever thought it would be. "You were a terrible father."

"You are too." Nathan sneered. "You aren't even a real father. Yeah, I said it. Think about it, you were going to die. You didn't want that, oh no, you had so much to give to the world. That whore Rose had run off without you and you were all alone. But that girl, some Irish bastard that wouldn't stop crying, she appears in front of you and you take that advantage. Her parents could have been anywhere, they might have been looking for her. Right now, if you hadn't stolen her, abducted her, she could be with her real family! But you were so selfish and took her for your own good. Now you're her 'father.' Well, you wish you were." Nathan pushed his face an inch away from Cal's, breathing that foul smell into his son's mouth. "Kid yourself all you like, but she ain't yours. She never was. But I'm the only one who seems to actually notice this. That bitch is nothing to me."

"GET OUT!" Cal screamed, pushing Nathan down to the ground with the documents still in hand, only a little more wrinkled. He looked so feeble lying there, crumpled suit and discoloured skin. He quickly picked himself up and headed towards the door. "I don't want you in my life anymore. Get out of my sight and stay away from my daughter."

Nathan left without a reply and Cal didn't move until he heard the slam of the main door and the revving noise of the car engine. He then fell onto the sofa and resisted the urge to scream. Things felt so different now. He didn't regret getting rid of Nathan but the knowledge that he despised Isabella and his little monologue brought in a few home truths. He never thought about it extensively before but his father was completely right for once in his life. Isabella didn't enter his life as the darling daughter he saw her as now. She was a tool, a means to an end. The red-headed girl with raggy clothes wasn't his daughter, she was his safety net. He had intended to give her away as soon as they reached shore, how was he supposed to know at the time that he would end up to hopelessly adore her? He was only human.

It hurt. She deserved so much more than any 3rd class family could have given her and he'd used that as an excuse for so many years. He could give her anything she ever desired, she wouldn't have had that with a group of Irish immigrants. Yet everybody deserved to be with their family. Had Cal robbed her of that privilege to save his own skin? He truly was a selfish being. He was so selfish that even this revelation about his own nature would never convince him to tell Isabella the truth. She deserved a real father - he was her real father, no matter what the biology. She was his. He wouldn't let her go as long as he lived, even if he had to push everybody else away. Isabella would receive everything she ever wanted - except the truth.


	8. Chapter 8

Isabella heard her father yell angrily at her grandfather from the upstairs room, but couldn't make out what the argument was precisely about. The shouts became muffled and indecipherable through the walls. She was not accustomed to such family feuds, even though she knew perfectly well what went on behind closed doors when she wasn't there. Her father and Jocelyn were known to have 'debates' every now and then, mostly involving a one sided screaming match from Jocelyn. It had been a very long time since she had experienced the full extent of her father's anger. Even through the barriers of the ceilings and walls, it sounded terrifying. It was when things like that happened that Isabella remembered how people described her father as a young man. Even her grandmother had said he was a little 'hot-headed' as a youth, although she thought she was downplaying the truth a little. Lucille sat next to Isabella at the dinner table, keeping a caring hand on her shoulder. The servants stayed at their respectable places, not wanting to seem impolite as they tried to eavesdrop on the upstairs conversation. They all knew the Hockleys had many skeletons hanging in their perfectly organised closets, so well hidden that nobody ever suspected the truth. Inside stories were worth a lot of money on the outside gossip circles and, even though it jeopardised their jobs and the Hockleys were wonderful employers, most of them were willing to do sell hem out in a second for the right amount.

With an all-mighty thud, the main doors slammed shut. At the same moment, Isabella and Lucille stood up and tottered over to the window to see what all the commotion was. They watched as Nathan, barely able to stand unaided, fell into the back of his car and yelled at the driver to do his god-damn job. As the speeding wheels sent gravel flying in all directions, Lucille's grip tightened on her bewildered grand-daughter. Over fifty years of marriage to that man had taught her to ignore certain things in order to keep peace, but this was too much. And recent times had put this silent vow into overdrive. Lucille could easily put her feelings and common sense aside and when Nathan had started to drink more than usual, she put it down to stress, nothing more. Even as he made more and more crude comments about her, she put that down to stress too. But his growing bitterness towards Isabella was impossible to ignore. He positively despised the girl at times, something she couldn't quite comprehend. The fond times of their fun days out together as three generations of the Hockley family seemed but a distant flash of nostalgia. She would never forgive Nathan for calling Isabella a bitch, there was a line that shouldn't have been crossed.

Jocelyn watched Nathan from the landing, making not a sound or movement. She curled her lip in amusement. The old man had finally snapped. She'd watched him for the 10 years he had been her father-in-law for and seen the drunken wrath build up to boiling point. It was only a matter of time before something snapped and she'd be there to pick up the pieces for Caledon, like the good wife she was. Isabella and Lucille shuffled slowly through to the landing, looking at the door as if they expected Nathan to burst through any moment.

"What the hell did you say Nathan?" Lucille whispered to her absent husband.

"I'm guessing the sign-over didn't go to well." Jocelyn said with a smile that seemed totally inappropriate for that moment. She was the only one happy at the time, contemplating the possibilities this chance could open up for her future. To keep up pretences, she put her spindly hand on her step-daughter's shoulder. It was an attempt at being comforting but her freezing palms were anything but. Isabella shrugged it away, knowing perfectly well Jocelyn didn't do sympathy, especially where it concerned Isabella.

"I'm gonna go and check on my dad." She said, heading towards the stairs. Jocelyn cornered her off. "Excuse me!"

"I'll go and see him first." Jocelyn insisted. "He needs someone to comfort him."

"And I can't do that?" Isabella asked, becoming more irritated with the pursed lipped woman in front of her.

"I know your father better than you do. Much better." Jocelyn smirked, bringing her left hand up towards her face so that her oversized diamond wedding ring was on show. "Trust me Isabella. I'm just what he needs right now."

Isabella doubted that, but she didn't want to add any more unnecessary arguments to the already tense mood amongst the family. She backed down and turned back to her grandmother, who needed someone to hug her dearly. Happy with her victory of sorts, Jocelyn ascended up the stairs to visit her husband.

Cal knew that his estrangement from his father would happen one day. Their relationship was far too tempestuous to withstand their fights. Yet when it had actually happened, and he had had time to reflect, it was a peculiar feeling. He didn't want the man back in his life again, not after those despicable things he had said. As a father himself, willing to do anything for his daughter, he couldn't understand how Nathan could so easily toss aside his child's feelings. Those weren't the actions of a true father. Cal looked down at the signed contracts, deeming him president of Hockley Industries, then at the unsigned documents he was going to present to his daughter once she turned eighteen. He knew that circumstance aside, he was a true father.

He knew that Jocelyn was standing in the doorway, she had an aura around her that was impossible to miss, but he chose to ignore her. What he really needed was some peace and Jocelyn never allowed him that. She hated to be ignored, so tapped her long nails across the door frame, creating a rhythmical tapping. Soon, her presence became irritating, and he had no choice but to acknowledge her.

"Yes, Jocelyn?" Cal asked, with a tone that made sure Jocelyn knew she wasn't welcome. Choosing to ignore it, she wrapped her arms around him to take a sly peek at the documents. They were all signed and ready to submit and make official. Next to them were the files to create the second in command. Her smirk grew wider, flashing her teeth. Cal stiffened under Jocelyn's grip. He still carried a dislike for her that grew with the passing days, but her knowledge kept him in his place, like a dog faced with a strong hand.

"We heard your little discussion from downstairs. I take it that Nathan wasn't happy." Jocelyn replied, sitting up and positioning her cold hand on the back of Cal's chair. Cal's head jutted around in shock.

"What did you hear?" He asked, panic obvious in his voice.

"Nothing we could really understand, just raised voices. Your final shout shocked us in particular." Jocelyn reassured her husband. His reaction made it clear to her that his biggest secret was their topic of heated debate. "What did he say about Isabella?" She asked.

"I don't wish to discuss it any further." Cal said, refusing to make eye contact with Jocelyn. Unfortunately, she wasn't about to stop.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Nathan's barely been able to stay sober for quite some time you. You'd think that prohibition would have put a stop to it, but when you've got the money, anything goes." She continued with a lilt in her voice. Cal had heard these sentiments countless times before and didn't wish to hear them again. He gathered up the signed documents and placved them in the drawer where he kept his picture of Isabella - along with several other items he preferred to keep out of public view. Jocelyn watched him lock the papers away and slide the key into his jacket pocket.

"His hostility towards Isabella isn't exactly unexpected." Jocelyn knew she'd hit a raw nerve with Cal, who was becoming more stern faced with each word she said. Jocelyn, loving her grasp of power yet again, continued. "Did you ever see him say anything nice to her over the past few months? She's barely been acknowledged by him, except for when he has a drunken rant. It's almost as if..." She paused to pull out the tension a little more. Cal's face was burning furiously. "...as if he didn't see her as his grandchild." She finished.

"Enough!" Cal snapped. He knew what she said was true but it still hadn't completely sunk in. His own father hated his grandchild. The biological link that Nathan obviously needed did not exist, therefore he would not view Isabella as one of his own. Cal had had enough of it all. If need be, he would cut all ties with those in his inner circle if they meant to harm his relationship with his daughter. He felt like he couldn't trust anybody now. There was a time when he was willing to stab anyone in the back to get his own way, but now he carried a heavy burden that had matured over the years, leaving him feeling helpless and pathetic. A quick look in the antique mirror displayed on the wall confirmed his progress into old age. His hairline was noticeably further back than it once was and the remaining hair was whispy and much lighter. The wrinkles were proof to all that life had been much more stressful than it once was. The fear of turning into his father was not helped by his striking resemblance to than drunken fool. One day he would just decide to stop looking in mirrors. He turned back and looked back at his wife. Ten years of marriage had not left him dumb, he could tell exactly when she was conjuring up some sort of plan and they were seldom positive.

"You know I'm right Caledon." She said in a hushed voice. "One day he'll let something slip and who knows what will happen."

"I don't care about that man anymore. He can die for all I care, he isn't important to me."

"Well he doesn't need to be here now. You've got his business, Mr President of the company." She emphasised each syllable of her new title for Cal, loving the authoritative sound it created. "Now you can do everything you've ever wanted."

Cal merely nodded, already imagining his future.

"Yes. Yes of course. Now Hockley Industries will be in safe hands. The family business can continue without any stupid delays."

Jocelyn smirked further, creating slight dimples in her sunken cheeks. No amount of extravagantly priced make-up would ever hide the fact that Jocelyn had aged beyond her years. Her malice added to that.

"So, where do I sign?" She asked. Cal looked confused, wondering if she had taken a sip of whatever Nathan had been drinking that night. "Oh don't act so coy Cal. You know what I mean." She picked up the unsigned documents that lay on his desk. "Just on the dotted lines?"

Cal's reaction of contempt disguised as a laugh was not expected.

"What on earth has come over you?" She asked.

"God, woman. You didn't seriously think that I would give you control of anything to do with the business, did you?" Cal said, still laughing. Jocelyn was not a woman that should be scorned but that that point he couldn't have cared less about her. Even as her mouth crinkled and her eyes turned to reptile-like slits, he continued to laugh. She let the papers fall back onto the table.

"You said that you were keeping the business in the family." She murmered.

"Yes, and it will be kept in the Hockley name, Ms Rutherford." He replied. By using her maiden name, Cal made Jocelyn feel disconnected from his life.

"Isabella?" She asked. His nod was the final straw. "So you're going to keep the family business running by handing it over to a girl you picked up from a ship."

"She's my daughter."

"No, she's someone else's kid and always has been. I'm your wife!" 

"Love has never existed between us, this was all about convenience and you know that. It's a piece of paper, nothing more."

"Excuse me, a piece of paper is all that makes that girl your daughter in the eyes of the law." Jocelyn fired back. She stepped closer to Cal, feeling his hurried breath across her skin. "This is all a farce and one day you're going to pay for what you did."

Cal had already snapped once tonight and could feel the beginnings of another scream building in his throat. But he restrained it with all his might. He did not want to turn into that man again. Instead, he turned his back to Jocelyn and picked up the documents he planned to present to Isabella, before walking out. He did not look back at Jocelyn and hoped that she would not raise the subject again. It was time to make some drastic changes to his life - changes that did not include that Rutherford woman. The world was against him and he planned to run until he could not hide it anymore.

Standing in the study, hands clasped together, Jocelyn wondered how on earth her marriage had made it past one whole decade. Tolerating Cal could be a challenge, but nothing compared to watching him coo over that girl he practically abducted. She had been second best for too long and was intent on bending things to her advantage. It was just her luck that Cal always wore jackets with large pockets. Large enough that she could dig her twig-like fingers into them and pull the smallest object out without him feeling it's absence. Opening her hands, she revealed to herself the study desk key, which she used immediately.

In the drawer - which she had never gazed upon before - lay several items, mementos of the younger Cal, a totally different man. The one that particularly grabbed her interest was a sepia picture in a simple golden frame. The edges were visibly worn and the picture itself bore the signs of folds and wrinkles in the paper. Without having ever seen her before, she knew exactly who the girl was. A young, unblemished face with lots of anguish hidden in her wide eyes. She was willing to take a guess that the picture was fourteen years old or so. Cal's ex-fiancee was a beautiful girl. Isabella could only wish that her mother was like this. She knew Cal had said her mother was called Rose. It seemed as if the young society girl still remained in his eyes despite her perishing so sadly. From the tragedy, Isabella was 'born.' Jocelyn smiled. How interesting her step-daughter would find this picture...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Author's Note: Sorry this is short. The next chapter will be short too but full of drama! Thanks to everyone who's favourited this and commented. (Special thanks to Sunshine-EmmaM for all the comments, they mean a lot!) and I promise that this won't be a total cop out!)


	9. Chapter 9

Not wanting to leave Lucille alone after such an outburst from her grandfather, Isabella stayed awake with her grandmother in the dining room until some time after three in the morning. The loyal servants stayed with them in case of needed assistance, yet couldn't hide their drooping eye lids or slumping bodies. Lucille hoped that Nathan would come back and apologise, no matter how unlikely that was. Maybe it was just best for him to sober up, although truthfully he hadn't been without some amount of alcohol in his body for quite some time now. He almost always came to bed reeking of stale whisky which radiated from his breath onto Lucille's face. It was obvious to even herself, but still hard for a woman of her age to accept that her marriage was over. Of course, she wouldn't divorce the man. What was the point when she had built her whole life into the Hockley estate? She consoled herself with the knowledge that Isabella was one positive aspect of her life, even if she occured from less than conventional means.

Ever the loyal child, Isabella made sure that her grandmother was comfortable and comforted until the early hours. She did not want to know what was being discussed between her father and the woman she grudgingly called step-mother. One family fight was enough for the night, if not forever. Jocelyn was planning something, Isabella just knew it in her gut. While she constantly looked conceited and conniving, tonight she had an especially suspicious glint in her eye. Her father may have been a lamb heading to the slaughterhouse, something Isabella shuddered to think about, but she was not going to fall into Jocelyn's claws. Finally, after several hours of mindless conversation, Lucille stood up, uneasy on her tired feet, and embraced Isabella in a stifling hug.

"Sorry to have kept you up darling." Lucille apologised, a heavy burden in her voice. She eventually released Isabella from her withered arms and let her breathe. "I think it's time for us both to go to bed."

Isabella smiled wearily, desperate to get out of her exceedingly uncomfortable dress. Overall, the day was a mixture of pleasant surprises and pure relative torture. Once she succumed to sleep, everything could stop for a few hours and there would be peace.

"Good night, grandma," She said, the last word disappearing with an oncoming yawn. They parted ways, Lucille wasn't quite ready to go to bed alone. Usually she welcomed the peace but she preferred to remain ignorant to her bountiful problems. Instead she dismissed the servants, who gratefully bowed and trotted off to their quarters, and stood by the window waiting for something, anything.

Isabella walked past her father's study and saw Jocelyn alone. She looked too wrapped up in something mysterious she held in her hand, and Isabella was in no mood to disturb her and give her the routine 'goodnight' hug. Instead, she continued past the door towards her own room. Cal must have been in his own room, the place he slept when he wished to be separated from unfavourable sorts, one woman's name came to mind. By the look Isabella saw on her step-mother's face, she deducted that words had been said and she had come out on top. If that truly was the case, then her father would not want to be bothered until tomorrow at the earliest. The day's events finally catching up on her, Isabella quickly but wearily threw off her dress, pulled on an old night-gown and collapsed on the mattress, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

One of the maids must have forgotten to close the drapes in Isabella's room. The morning dawn acted as her alarm, an unwelcome sight that blinded her the moment she opened her eyes. Unable to sleep again, she decided not to waste any of the day and dressed casually straight-away. Her dreams had been filled with three men - Her father, who held her close before setting her aside on a hard wooden plank. Nathan, who screamed indecipherable ramblings brought on undoubtedly from the leaking bottle in his hand. And Darcy. He didn't say anything, merely sat next to her and smiled. His usual laid-back demeanour was evident even in the subconscious world and kept her calm. Serenity was something she desperately needed in this dream. The dark water was back, but her surroundings were far more claustrophobic. A fence of thick wood surrounded her but barely kept the water back. Isabella could feel the tears again, now at a hysterical level. Cal didn't seem to notice her as she continued to cry, instead standing up and holding a peculiar shaped rod made of the same wood as the border. She wanted the familiar comfort of her father's arms around her back, and the hushed voice reassuring her despite the worst. But he never looked at her, he didn't even seem to notice her. It wasn't until he briefly turned to face her, never making eye contact, that she saw how youthful he looked. The wrinkles of the years had disappeared and his hair-line was decidedly more forward on his head. He looked like the pictures of his playboy days Lucille had shown her. But with the handsome face came the haughty demeanour he had discussed with her. He definately seemed more standoff-ish than he acted nowadays, like a man whose youth had left him arrogant and invincible. It was an unsettling vision for Isabella, who still found the idea of her father being anything other than what he was now rather unusual. Her surroundings rocked back and forward, spurning on her grandfather's grunts and drinking. She instinctively screamed, feeling the icy splashes of the dark water hit her barely covered feet. Panic was taking over her, she wanted somebody to hold her. But Cal did not see her pain. The only one who seemed to care was the scruffy servant seated next to her, barely moving a muscle.

Isabella did not want to analyse any more of her dreams for fear of frightening herself, so put it all down to the drama of the previous day. After all, the men in the dream had all played a crucial part yesterday. Dressed in yet another pair of slacks and a plain shirt, Isabella headed to the kitchen for some breakfast before the rest of the house awakened. After a fight, Cal and Jocelyn would usually lie in bed until late after noon, giving Isabella some peace before the storm. Right enough, the kitchen was empty except for the obligatory servant, who seemed to be sweeping the same patch of floor over and over again. Isabella grabbed a china bowl from one of the countless cupboards and searched for something to fill it. Whilst looking across the table-tops, she noticed a large collection of wild flowers tied together with pale string perched in the sink. Atteched to the string was a torn scrap of paper, which she picked up. She was surprised to see her own name at the top, albiet shortened down to 'Izzy' which she didn't entirely approve of.

"To Izzy. Thanks for a fun day yesterday. Come back and see Lizzie and I any time. From Darcy. X"

Onc she finished reading, she smiled weakly. It was a sweet gesture, one that she wasn't accustomed to. Men didn't give her flowers unless it was on the receiving end of a business deal, so Darcy's gift was surprising. Perhaps it wasn't inconceivable that a man could enjoy your company without wanting your name on a form. She picked up the overwhelming bunch, almost too large for her to collect in her small hands, and placed them in a vase that adorned the window-sill. It was an antique collector's item but she thought it was pointless not to put it to some good use. They certainly made the room appear brighter and more vibrant. She would need to return the favour but doubted flowers were Darcy's ideal gift.

Isabella decided today she would do nothing. She grabbed one of the copious amounts of books from the library and lay on the exquisitely padded couch in the sitting room in the west wing. Nothing was going to disturb her - the dining room chair against the door saw to that. The silence was welcome. It was so welcome that she unexpectedly nodded off on the couch, the book falling onto her lap folded at the page she had just read. This time the dark water wasn't in her dreams but her father remained, this time having returned to his loving, familiar state. She didn't wake up until the banging on the door overtook her dreams. Someone was trying to get in.

"Isabella!"

She recognised her father's voice immediately and jumped up to move the chair, letting the book slam to the ground with a surprising thump. Opening the door with the residue of sleep still in her eyes, she was relieved to see how relaxed her father seemed. None of the previous night's tension appeared on his expression, a content smile complete with wrinkled edges. It was a great improvement and relaxed Isabella.

"Not disturbing anything, am I?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"Sorry father. I was just reading and fell asleep."

"With the door locked?"

"It takes desperate measures to get some peace in this house."

"True," He sighed, knowing that the quiet he had promised her for this vacation had completely disappeared, replaced with nothing but chaos. Maybe his proposition would change things. He entered the room and picked up the abandoned book, placing it back in it's alphabetical order amongst the other books on the shelves.

"Are you okay?" She asked, sitting back down on the couch but in a more ladylike manner. Cal joined her, keeping his hands on his lap, over a pile of card bound documents. It was hard not to notice how much they shook, the veins pulsing boldly amongst the clammy pale skin. A moment of consideration from Isabella and she realised that her father was overall beginning to look a little unwell. Stress was evident on his face thanks to the ever growing bags under his eyes. Cal felt every ounce of tiredness in his body, like weights under his skin that coaxed him into falling asleep for unlimited amounts of time. But force of will prevented sleep and he tried to act optimistic, if only for Isabella who was soon becoming his one ally. It was like an obsession trying to prepare everything to cement her good future. He had read and re-read the business sign-over documents more time than anything in his career. Everything was to be perfect, no mistakes were acceptable.

"Of course I'm fine, don't worry." He said, no conviction in his voice. "It's just been a less than conventional vacation."

"You couldn't help any of that. You don't have control over Grandfather's actions, no matter how tempting it would be to have that power."

"I'm sorry that you had to be on the receiving end of that...drunken imbicile."

"Don't be. You have nothing to apologise for, it's his fault."

"Well, I told him exactly what I thought last night. He won't bother us again. At least until he sobers up, whenever that happens." Cal said sternly. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I actually have something of great importance to discuss with you." He pulled out the first page from the document collection and lay it in Isabella's hands. A quick skim across the miniscule type and he realised just what her father was offering her. Her gaping mouth was enough response for Cal.

"Is that a yes?" He smiled.

"Father, this is...this is a big responsibility." She stammered, checking the document again to make sure that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. "What on earth have I done to warrant such a position?"

"Isabella, you are so intelligent and business minded that it puts me to shame. You'll be 18 soon and I'm not going to allow you to waste your life in some pointless position that is usually given to young ladies of your age and status. I realise that it's a difficult job and you'll have much to learn but I'm certain that you'll be up to the challenge." Cal took a fountain pen from his front pocket and held it out to Isabella. "There are small crosses next to where you need to sign."

She couldn't completely gather her thoughts about what was happening. Isabella didn't know what was stranger, the fact that she was 17 and soon to be a vice president of a major corporation, or knowing that her father was crazy enough to offer her the position with no reason to. The most obvious answer to the latter thought was family favouritism. Even the most financially minded person could let personal desires take precedence. If that was the case, she couldn't possibly take this job.

"Would you offer me this job if I wasn't your daughter?" She asked.

"Definately." He replied without hesitation. "You've ever had any self confidence, darling. You are capable of doing this job, believe me when I say that."

"Well...I'm still a little apprehensive. I do appreciate this father, but I'm still too young. Shouldn't you be hiring someone with a little more experience in the field?"

"But then it wouldn't be a family business. Besides, you have a lifetime to learn and, at the risk of sounding horribly sentimental, there's no other person I'd rather have by my side."

"That was rather cheesy." Isabella grinned.

"But it's the truth. You don't have to sign now, I realise how big this is. Please promise you'll consider it, you deserve this job." With a kiss on her forehead, he left her alone in the room, fountain pen resting next to her.

Her eyes stayed widened and began to water. It was a baffling choice on her father's behalf, but something she was completely grateful for. Of course, she would take a lot of time to think it over, not make an irrational decision that could ruin everything for the Hockleys. It was a case of outweighing the negatives with good things she could contribute. Music was her first love but she'd always held a passion for the family business and it would be an honour to keep the name alive. Her piano would need to take a break for a while, which wasn't very appealing though. Another main problem for Isabella was her complete lack of authority. She was not skilled in leading others and blushed at the thought of shouting at a stranger. Even in today's society, it was still difficult for a woman to be taken seriously in such a highly sought position. She didn't know if she felt ready to meet so many challenges so soon after leaving school. Adulthood beckoned but she still felt like a little girl. This was going to take longer than one night to think about.

"Isabella!" A shrill voice squacked from the distance, waking Isabella from her trance-like state. The sun was setting outside, the familiar kaleidoscope of colours mixing in the sky. She had not idea so much time had passed, such was her strength of concentration on the subject in hand. Jocelyn's voice could wake anybody up. Without invitation, she entered the room and stood in front of Isabella, packaged envelope in her arms. Something about her was suitably menacing, at least moreso than usual.

"Oh, hello Jocelyn." Isabella said, no attempt made to feign interest in her step-mother.

"I believe congratulations are in order. You must be so proud of yourself. All that hard work in your years as a Hockley is finally paying off." Jocelyn smirked. She was in no mood to skip around the issue. Plus with all that was about to be revealed, things were much more fun with the occasional cutting remark.

"Yes, well I haven't quite decided if I want to sign up for the job so soon after school." She murmured in reply. "But if father thinks I'm capable of the job, there must be some truth behind it."

"Of course. I mean, Caledon isn't the sort of man who lets something as frivolous as his love for his only child get in the way of a rational business decision. There may have been other better, more sensible choices, but he made the right choice. In his mind."

"Didn't you want the job?" Isabella asked. She knew the answer already, but took great pride in the seething whistling noise Jocelyn made through her teeth in silent anger.

"Well, you know how it is." Jocelyn tried to sound uninterested, but failed.

"No I don't. Would you care to explain?"

"Let's not discuss business now. Especially since I have something for you." Jocelyn changed the subject. She was losing the battle but was guaranteed to win the war. Handing over the envelope, she couldn't help but grin. Isabella tentatively opened the grown package, taking out a framed picture she'd never seen before. A woman of youthful appearance was depicted, and undeniable beauty. Even devoid of colour, her beauty was evident.

"Who is this?" Isabella asked.

"Open up the frame." She said.

Carefully, with shaking fingers, she pulled the back of the frame apart and laid the ageing photograph in her hands. Written on the back in black ink, in Cal's distinguished script, was a name and a date.

Rose, 1912.

Isabella was ecstatic. Finally, some sign of her mother. She was not at all how she imagined her to be, mostly because she looked nothing like herself. The hair was darker, at least the pictured hair was darker than blonde appears in black and white, and she was much prettier than Isabella. The lack of family resemblance was a little deflating, but it couldn't compare to how joyful she was.

"Thank you so much Jocelyn!" Isabella exclaimed. She was so happy that she could even thank her step-mother without a hint of sarcasm.

"Whatever for?" Jocelyn said with unconvincing naivety. Ten years of competing with that girl, who by right should never have been in her life at all, had left her devoid of any emotion for her. There was something utterly detestable about her optimism, politeness and ability to please everybody. To end it all would bring her more pleasure than anything she'd received from her marriage of convenience.

"I've never seen her before, she's so pretty. This means a lot to me, thank you for your kindness." Isabella smiled, keeping the picture close.

"She's a beautiful woman, I can see why Cal so was entranced by her."

"I wish I could have met her." She contemplated lost times together, hugging the photograph to her chest.

"Why?"

Isabella paused, not understanding what Jocelyn was getting at.

"I don't know how you would have gotten on, considering she despised Cal. No wonder she ran off from him. Sealed her own fate I guess, but angered him. He's still hung up on her, even though he denies it."

"My mother ran away?" Isabella asked. She couldn't understand what was being said, Jocelyn had an annoying habit of being cryptic when it suited her. "I'm confused."

"Your mother?" Jocelyn laughed, a bellow that filled the room. "Darling, you've got the wrong end of the stick. Rose is not your mother. Who on earth let you believe that?"

"Bu...but father...he said my mother's name was Rose."

"Rose De Witt Buckater was Cal's fiance 14 years ago. She died when the Titanic sank, same night you came along. Even Cal doesn't know what your mother's name is. Or your fathers."

"Jocelyn, what the hell are you getting at?"

"It doesn't take a genius, dear. Haven't you ever wondered why there are no baby pictures of you? Or why Cal gets so twitchy when you ask about your mother? Or why he never mentioned the Titanic to you until a few nights ago? What about Nathan's outbursts of late? You don't hate your real grandchildren, do you?"

The picture fell to the ground, Rose's eyes peering back at Isabella, the sort that follow a person around the room. The dark water appeared before her eyes, making more sense with each passing moment.

Mouth trembling, glittering eyes full of tears, ready to fall, Isabella grabbed the picture and stormed out of the room, running towards Cal's study. Jocelyn followed, eager to see what would arise.

"FATHER!" Isabella screamed, the time for politeness over. She wanted answers from the only man who could provide them. He sat in his study, perched on the edge of his seat. He had never seen Isabella in such a state before, not since infancy anyway.

"Darling, what's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"Tell me the truth, no lies." She stammered, beginning to breathe awkwardly. "Who am I?"

"I don't understand."

"Am I really your daughter?" She asked, afraid of the answer. Cal's eyes flickered away from hers, just for a second of hesitation. But it was enough for Isabella. Each breath was like a part of her world falling down around her. No words needed, her life was practically over.

"Isabella..." Cal too felt the same anguish, no tears or sobbing could match what he felt. Fourteen years of perfection were over.

"I want an explanation. Now." She asserted herself for the first time to her father. Or whoever he was.

"Okay. I'll tell you everything."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Author's Note: Sorry this took too long to get up, my computer is practically steam powered. I hope this is worth the wait, the full story comes in the next chatper! Thanks for reading everyone!


	10. Chapter 10

"Okay. I'll tell you everything..."

With a stutter of breath and a frantic heartbeat that felt like humming in his chest, Cal was ready to begin the story of how his 'daughter' came to be. He'd spent many sleeples nights praying that Isabella would never ask about the subject that brought tears to his eyes. It wasn't the easiest thing to tell anybody, let along the most important young lady in his life. She stood in front of him, only a few feet away but it might as well have been the other side of the city. It was a stab through his heart and soul, seeing her so unhappy, especially since he was inadvertantly the cause of it. But the catalyst of her and his misery was in the doorway, the only one benefiting from this all. In the distant light of his desk lamp, Jocelyn looked more horrid than ever before. Maybe his perception had finally lost the cloud of obligation he had held for his wife, for now she wasn't even human in his eyes. Each wrinkle, unconvincingly hidden behind a scraping of make-up, was obvious on her face. Her desperately dyed hair looked straw-like and brittle. Even her eyes had a demon fire in them, Cal didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before. If she didn't leave the room right now, he wouldn't be held accountable for his actions. He didn't want her there, smirking at his every word, when he told Isabella the truth.

"Jocelyn, leave us alone." He said, each syllable like a punch to his throat.

"Ha, after all this, you think I want to miss the climax?" She laughed. "This has been a long time coming Caledon, you know that."

"Get out Jocelyn." He said, a little stronger than before. Fists formed, white knuckles popping under his skin.

"Or what?" She challenged him. That was it - the final straw. With a swift step towards the door, Cal raised his hand, now relaxed and free, and struck her face as hard as he could. She tumbled to the floor like a rag doll, clutching her cheek, turning redder than the rouge which decorated it. Cal was strong, a reformed bully. But she deserved it, she knew that. Still. her lawyers would love this litle piece of news. Cal looked down his nose at her, no longer a registered human being in his eyes. Parasites deserved more respect than her.

"You haven't changed a bit over the years, have you?" Jocelyn laughed, knowing this display gave her the upper hand.

"GET OUT" He bellowed, a room shaking cry that rocked Jocelyn to the core of her hollow chest. She rose from the floor and strutted away, cheek throbbing and smile ever present. That felt good, Cal thought. Now was not the time for a reappearance of his former ways, but the serpent deserved every blow she received. He turned back to Isabella, His actions had left her with a small feeling of intimidation coupled with relief. Jocelyn had paid her a huge favour by telling her the truth, if only for her own reasons, but it didn't make Isabella like the woman. It also showed her the monster within Cal Hockley. How he had kept it dormant for so long was mystifying. She didn't want to be near him but she yearned for the truth.

"Isabella..." Cal started.

"Just tell me the truth." She interrupted him. She didn't want to hear any grovelling apologies or paternal cries. The idea of calling that man 'father' made her shudder unexpectedly. It only took a matter of minutes for any feeling she had for Cal to disappear. She didn't know if it would come back after he had finished explaining. Isabella's eyes burned with pain from crying. She could feel her stomach turning over in her body, desperate to expel whatever was inside it but she just couldn't bring anything up. Cal too felt physically sick.

"I..." He started. not knowing how you start such a tale. "I don't know what to say."

"Start from the beginning. Start from the Titanic." Isabella was bitter, so obviously bitter and it didn't suit her mild, relaxed demeanour. It seemed like everybody today was revealing another side of their personalities seldom seen before.

"Well, I guess that would be best. You should sit down," He told her, but she stayed standing. Something told her she might want to make a quick escape later. "Okay then." Cal couldn't formulate any words in his mind. Scraps of memories and phrases spiralled in his head but nothing came out as a comprehensible sentence. Splutters of quick breaths and stammers were all he could manage.

"Who's Rose?" Isabella asked, saving him the trouble of starting the tale.

"Rose was my fiancee." He said, a little more relaxed, although relaxed was the last thing he was. Such topics were enough to bring on panic attacks. But now he had a beginning, and the quicker this was over the better. "We were engaged to be married in the summer of 1912. It wasn't for love, her family were in a severe amount of debt and needed a quick fix. So, my father suggested marriage. Everything was prepared for the wedding, but at the time we were in England. The Titanic was the most luxurious ship ever designed, so of course we had to travel on it." He sighed, remembering how horrid he used to be. "I was a ghastly man. Spoilt, cruel and just totally horrid." He turned to Isabella, aching for some sign of forgiveness. "But you changed all that, you made me a better person. It doesn't matter about the dramatics of it all, the important thing is you're my little girl and I love you. Surely nothing's..."

"Stop it." She spat out. "Just...just tell me the truth."

Cal paused for a few seconds. There was acid in the air, poisoning the small gap between the estranged pair. He wanted to be saved from his solitude, but the truth would spurn her away. However, she so needed the truth, it was in her eyes. He owed her that.

"Okay. So...so we boarded the ship and went about our businesses, meaning the usual upper class garbage. At the time it was my idea of heaven, how ironic. I was so blind, so foolishly selfish that I didn't even notice how unhappy Rose was. All that mattered to me was that my reputation was kept alive. I was a marriage away from an inheritance with no intentions of working for it, and that was all. But the strange thing is I did, on some unseen level, love her. It wasn't a proper love, like a good relationship should be built on. It was safe, and secure. Truthfully, I knew that Rose was an amazing woman and I'd never get anybody better than her. That's why it hurt so much when she met that man."

"Who?" Isabella whispered, as if her body was now incapable of anything else. She was exhausted beyond comprehsion.

"Jack Dawson. A nobody with nothing to offer her. They became...aquainted on the ship when he saved her from falling over the side. I knew she didn't slip, but I never told her that. I couldn't believe she'd rather die than be with me. It's the worst dent to your pride that you could possibly gain. But regardless of my selfishness, I was glad she was okay. Mr Dawson though, I knew he wanted her. Everything about him said so. Of course he did, Rose was a beautiful woman. If I could have given the order, he would have been thrown overboard. Against my better judgement, we invited him to dine with us. Everyone saw him as some sort of hero who we should welcome into our little group. I knew differently, and so did Rose's mother. She was a cold woman too, idealistic but uncaring. The marriage was a business deal, they were mere months away from bankruptcy, and she knew that Dawson could disrupt things. So when he came to dine with us, we combined every scrap of malice we could derive from him, his background, his attitudes, and tried to make him feel sub-human." Cal stopped, amazed with himself and how easily he talked about this. It was like a therapy session gone well. He'd never experienced closure from Rose, maybe this was it in some unwitting aspect. With one mere though, he could see her again. Not just the pose of her aged picture, but everything. It all seemed brighter now, more exposed. Her red hair practically burned on her beautiful head. Even her lips were alive, like precious stones he wanted to claim as his own but knew he never would. That was something he always knew throughout their engagement. No marriage document or attempt at some sort of partnership would change the fact she didn't love him. It was a pain that never ended. Shaking his head and waking himself up from the short blackout of reminiscence, he continued.

"It didn't work. He was everything we thought a working class man shouldn't be. It sickened me. Dawson upstaged me in every way possible which was unforgiveable. And all the time, I could see her watching him, looking at him in a way that she never looked at me. There was always this potential spark in her eye, a hint that one day something would make her come alive, and it was him that brought it out! I couldn't stand for it any longer so the next day I..." He stopped again. The next detail was something only 3 people knew about - one was dead and the other was off working somewhere else (Cal couldn't remember where Trudy the maid had gone to exactly). He didn't wish to share the moments of monstrosity with Isabella, it was a lapse of concentration.

"Yes?" She pressed him for more. He couldn't lie to her, not now.

"I did something stupid. Actually I did nothing but stupid things that day..." Except for one, he thought to himself. "I forbade her from seeing that man again. But she was too headstrong to take my word seriously without action. And, like the bastard that I was, I lost it. The table that separated us went flying across the floor and I threatened her. It was, at the time, the stupidest thing I'd ever done. I've never forgiven myself for it either. Please don't think of me as a monster Isabella." His pleading eyes were bordering on pathetic for her. Cal was her hero, the omnipotent man who she adored all her life. Now he was like a begging dog who would do anything to gain it's master's love. Isabella had no idea she wielded such a power over him, she'd had no need to disagree with him before. But before, he was her father, now...she didn't know what the word for him was. When she didn't reply, Cal continued.

"That didn't work either. They fell in love right before my eyes and I despised her for it. She had to suffer, and the best way for me to do that was to destroy the thing she held dear. I don't think this part of the story is really necessary to what you want to know..."

"Tell me everything." She said simply. "Every detail."

"But why?"

Her voice registered as merely a whimper. "Because I want to know what sort of person you are."

"And you think that learning about the man I used to be will help you find that out?"

"If you don't tell me it now, that just makes you a liar, and anything's better than that."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Right now I'm not sure of anything. I just need to know this. So go on."

"Fine." Cal said, though not maliciously. "What she loved most was him, so me and my associate Lovejoy, a man worse than I, faked a robbery, pinning the blame on him. At the time we thought the matter would be fixed until we arrived in New York, but fate played a different hand. Unknown to us, the Titanic had struck an iceberg, and was mere hours away from resting at the bottom of the Atlantic. I didn't believe it at first, not many people did. When you guarantee that a ship is unsinkable, you sort of expect that promise to be fulfilled until the end of the journey. But when it sank in, we were stunned. The fool of a captain declared that the lifeboats should only be available for women and children, meaning half the people onboard were going to die. Not my problem at the time, all I cared about was myself and Rose. She didn't want to be anywhere near me, she only wanted Dawson. The first moment she got, she ran. Amid the confusion on deck, I lost her. Eventually I found her again. And him. I was so relieved that she was safe. Cold and soaking wet and in her simplest clothes, but safe. I had organised a safe passage for myself and she would go on board the lifeboat, ready to meet me in New York. But she wouldn't leave without that man. So, I did what I was good at and lied through my teeth, saying my passage allowed room for Jack. I had no intention of letting him near any means of escape. But whatever got her on board was worth it. She boarded and everything was fine. For all of 20 seconds. Then she jumped! She actually jumped off the boat and went back onto the Titanic! She put her love before her life. Her love before mine. Then I truly lost it. I pulled out a gun. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated madness, I can't remember what on earth was going through my mind at the time. I didn't want Rose dead, I never wanted her dead. I just didn't want her to love him. Death wouldn't end that but it would have healed my wounds. Instead, they ran into the sunken depths of the lower levels. I never saw her again."

"Did she die on the ship?" Isabella asked. She was genuinely interested in the story, even though it pained her to do so. This must have been what it it was like to watch the Titanic sink from a distance. You knew how devastating it was, how irreparable the damage could be, yet you couldn't tear your attention away from it.

"I expect so. I looked for her for months afterwards but no record of her exists. The best private investigators in New York couldn't locate her. Part of me thinks she's still out there, under a new identity and free of everything we used to be. But I gave up hope long ago. No woman ever replaced her, Jocelyn could never even come close. Shall I continue?"

Isabella nodded.

"After Rose had gone, I found out my chances of escape had too. Men were still banned from passage. And I panicked, I didn't know what to do." Cal looked Isabella straight into her burning eyes, like he was inspecting a precious work of art. She truly was to him.

"Then I saw you."

Isabella suddenly felt the need to sit down. She fumbled her way into the desk chair, perched against the edge. Whatever came next, it surely couldn't be good.

"You were so helpless, this lost little child crushed up against the deck, tears pouring from your eyes. You were screaming and sobbing and totally alone. In the confusion I guess you must have become separated from...well, you know who from."

"From my real family." She whispered, not believing the words herself. It was something Cal didn't want to comprehend. The other family never existed to him and they shouldn't to Isabella either.

"I guess we sort of found each other. We were both lost souls in need of an escape. I saved you. Isabella, the next thing I tell you will sound completely selfish but I implore you to remember all that we've done together since and how much I love you. Back then, I wasn't the same person I am now, you made me who I am and I love you so much."

"What happened?"

"Well, I guess the fact that we're both here now talking about it is the best answer I can give." He said, awaiting her reply with baited breath.

"You just picked me up and got on a boat."

"No." The hardest answer Cal ever had to give.

"What happened then?"

"I walked past you. I just kept walking towards the lifeboat, hoping I'd still get on. But that plan failed. Then...then I saved you." Cal said, the end of his sentence trailing off into silence. Years of reading between the lines with every back-stabber that came her way had left Isabella with a keen skill for perception. She didn't need to hear the rest, she knew she wasn't the only one saved. She desperately wanted to fire back at him with a scathing insult, so he knew how sickeningly selfish his actions were. He already knew it of course, but didn't regret a thing. But some scrap of daughterly instinct held onto her and stopped her. She was somebody's daughter but who? Would she ever find out? Did she even want to?

"I went back to where you were stuck and grabbed you." He said as quickly as possible, as if the words were poison. "We got on the lifeboat and escaped."

What followed was the most excruciating silence Cal had ever experienced. Isabella seemed to stop breathing. She knew the truth now and it killed him.

"So I was just some bargaining tool to you." She finally broke the silence, her voice waivering with each syllable. "Was I ever anything else?"

"At the time?" He asked. She nodded, though barely seemed to move. "No. Not at that moment in time."

"Oh." Isabella said. Nothing else seemed suitable for the moment. What could you say when your heart was being broken and everything you thought of as your life for so long was breaking off piece by piece before your eyes? She was exhibiting all the signs of a lady in anguish, except for the tears. It wouldn't be long before they fell again. All her life that she could recall, Isabella had heard the stories of the less than pleasant Caledon Hockley. They declared him to be a snobbish, selfish and despicable man, which made him sound like a sort of caricature. How could she have been so blind? The real question was how could he have been so convincingly perfect to her? A leopard doesn't change his spots, no matter how hard he tries. The man she used to know would have saved a little girl in need no matter what the personal gain, so who was this standing in front of her?

"Isabella, please try to understand what was happening at the time." Cal babbled. "I'm not that man anymore. And anyway, what is the use of arguing over this? We're here together now, and we've shared a wonderful life together. That never would have happened if I hadn't done what I did. Can you honestly say you have hated your life? Or you've ever wanted for anything? I gave you that! I'd do it again if I had to."

"What about afterwards?" She asked. She didn't want to be dragged into a sentimental matter because she didn't have any answers. Not ones that she wanted to say. "What was your masterplan for when you got to New York? Because I doubt it involved me." She surprised even herself with the level of malice in her voice. Jocelyn would have been proud.

"I'm not on trial here!" Cal spat back.

"No, but this confession is just as damning!" Their voices were getting louder and more aggresive. "Did it?"

"No! No it didn't. If you must know, I was going to put you in an orphanage the moment we docked!" He bellowed, immediately regreting it. It was true but he wished it wasn't.

"Then why did you?"

Cal paused, keeping his voice level. He didn't want to exclude Isabella any more, she was his daughter always and forever. "Because..." His voice returned to its normal level. "Because somehow, while we were sitting on that rescue boat being counted, and you were sitting on my lap crying your little eyes out, I realised I couldn't just leave you. You didn't have a soul in the world to care for you. At the time neither did I. So I took you to a hotel where you slept for over 2 days. I never left your side. I kept thinking about where you would go and what would happen to you, then it hit me how I couldn't let you go. I just couldn't stand the idea of you leaving me alone. You hadn't said a word to me the entire time we'd been on the boat, but I felt such a connection with you. So, when the time came for me to return to Pittsburgh, I took you with me and haven't looked back since."

"How the hell did you convince everybody that I was yours?"

"When you have enough money you can do anything. My family told everyone we knew that you were my biological child, and your mother was a former flame of mine who had recently died. It worked, and after the paperwork was taken care of, there were no qualms to fix. So it has been for 14 years. And...that's the end of it."

"No it's not. This doesn't just end because you want it to."

"Why can't we just leave it be?" Cal begged. "How does this change anything? You're still the most important thing in my life and always will be."

"How can I believe a thing you say? You didn't even have the decency to tell me the truth from the beginning? how would that have changed anything if you'd been honest from the start?" The tears had arrived and now she couldn't breathe properly. She clutched at her chest with a mixture of pain and misery.

"If you had known, then you wouldn't have fully been mine. Everytime you looked at me, you would have known and I didn't want that. I wanted to be your father, your real father. I would sell my soul to have that honour. Now you know and my heart is shattering."

"So is mine." She admitted. "But why did you have to lie? I just can't understand that."

"What would you have done?"

"I don't know."

"You can't understand what it was like, you never will. I just want things to be like they were before you knew."

"Do you think that's at all possible?" 

"Yes! Of course it is! All we need to do is move on and act like we used to be. You're still my daughter."

"I've never been anyone's daughter. Not in a long time. I can't even remember my real family, or who I was. Who am I?"

"You're Isabella Hockley. That's all that matters."

"Don't patronise me, I don't deserve that." Isabella edged towards the door. She wanted to get out of that huge, foreboding house and run away to anywhere. She wanted to go somewhere where she nobody knew her and be the person she knew she was underneath the lies and deception. "Who. Am. I?"

"I honestly do not know. All I know is that you're of Irish descent. But over 1500 people died on that ship and almost all of them are unknown. There is no chance of you ever finding anybody of remote relation because we don't know your real name, your family's name or their original location. When I officially adopted you I had them declared dead!"

"You selfish bastard!" Isabella shrieked. No doubt the whole house heard. "You monster!" Now the word fit the man. Her perception was clear and the dark water of her dreams had become crystal. Cal tried to approach her but she ran out the room, scrambling towards the door.

"Isabella!" He cried after her, trying to follow. But the years of comfortable living had left him in a less than ideal condition. Isabella sprinted out the door and into the impending darkness. She had nowhere to go but it was more appealing than in that house, the home of her fraudulent family. Those people were of no relation to her, and the more she thought about that, the harder her heart thumped against her chest. She needed time to think. Time to reflect on her past, present and future. She needed to find out who she was, because Isabella Hockley had just died in that house, never to return. The horse shed was her destination. Only there would she find someone who hadn't lied to her at all.

Cal finally made it to the door but Isabella was long gone.

"Isabella!?" He cried out into the distance but only the echo replied. "Isabella?!" He kept calling out, running out of breath and ready to fall to his knees and sob. He wanted to follow her but where to go? Every direction led to somewhere completely new and different, each with countless places she could hide. It was obvious that she didn't want to be near him, but he wouldn't give up. He'd never let his daughter go. She was his.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Author's note: Took ages to do because of my silly broken computer. Now I have a new one with a better keyboard and since I finish school soon I'll have more time to write this. My only worry is that this chapter doesn't liove up to expectations. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to write. So I hope I didn't disappoint. More to come soon and thanks for the continuing support! Every review is wonderful!)


	11. Chapter 11

As she scurried through the darkness towards what she hoped was the horse fields, Isabella pushed all thoughts from her mind and concentrated on breathing and moving. The faint silhouettes of the shack and the increasingly unstable nature of the ground told her she was nearing her destination. She hadn't looked back since she'd left the house, turning around and looking at that place would just remind her that everything was a lie. And how do you react to the realisation that everything you ever loved and cherished was fake? It was too much to take in at once, so she ran, pounding the muddy ground with her obscenely expensive shoes as if it would distract her mind. Finally, with aching feet and legs ready to collapse, she made it to the shack.

Forcing her way through the mud with hiccuping breath, she found the faintly lit stable where Darcy's horse rested, eating a large pile of hay. The owner himself was not there, she didn't know why she expected him to be. Struggling under the weight of the mud on her clothes, she stumbled onto a a make-shift seat constructed from hay and rested. She hadn't quite stopped crying, but her tears were decreasing in volume. Someone would probably find her soon, she hoped it would be Darcy. Something in her mind doubted he would make her return to the house. Home wasn't the appropriate word anymore. Isabella didn't know if she'd ever feel at home anywhere now. The exhaustion began to set in but she dare not let her eyes shut. The dark water would creep back into her dreams, stronger and deadlier than before.

"Izzy?" A familiar and welcome voice called through the door. "Are you in here?" Darcy stormed through the door, mud splattered over his shirt and face, and sighed with relief when he saw Isabella lying on the hay. "Oh jeez, thank God you're here!" In the relief of the moment he grabbed her in his arms and hugged her limp body, the faint rumbling in her chest against his own the only sign of life in her. He kept her in that position tightly for a few seconds then Isabella gently lifted her shaking arms towards his shoulders. The barely visible blonde hairs on her arms rose to attention, she hadn't realised how cold it had become. She pulled away and saw dirty stains left across Darcy's shoulders.

"Oh Darcy I'm so sorry. Look, I've got mud all over your shirt." Isabella couldn't get the end of her sentence out coherently, for her tears started again and turned it into a blubbering mess.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." Darcy replied, tossing aside anything that didn't concern Isabella. "Izzy, your dad's got about a hundred people looking for you. Your grandma's crying her eyes out and a step away from calling the police. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Did you tell anyone you were coming here?" Isabella asked, not wanting to hear about those people again.

"Well, no. I just thought I'd check here anyway. Don't know why. God, you're freezing. Come on, I'll take you home."

"I'm not going back to that house."

"Come on Izzy, whatever happened with you and your dad, it'll sort itself out. I argue with my dad all the time but we always make up. He just wants you back safely, he's so worried."

"I can't go back there, I don't belong there. They've done nothing but lie to me and I'm not going to be part of that anymore. I'm not their servant!"

"What?"

"Oh God, I'm sorry, that was a stupid comparison. I just can't be involved with that house or those people or the liars that are part of the name Hockley!"

"Izzy, I am always going to help you out if you need it, and right now it sounds like you do. But I need to know why you won't go back."

"It's a little complicated."

"I've got plenty of time." He kept an arm around her, hoping it would warm her up a little. "Come on, what's wrong."

Darcy had been an unusual and sudden addition to her life, with his well meaning actions and meandering, spontaneous ways. He was always interesting, something that enthralled Isabella. He may have been a more recent aquanitance, but she trusted him more at that moment than anybody else who she could think of. He had never lied to her. Those few days of honesty compared to a lieftime of deceit.

"It's all a lie. Everything in my life has been twisted and made to fit with what those people in that stupid house find convenient! I... I don't understand why someone would be so shameless as to do that. Does basic human decency apply to these people?" Isabella rambled so quickly and incoherently that she began to choke.

"Izzy, slow down. Just breathe. I'm a little lost. Why don't you just start from the beginning?"

Shaking, either from anger or anguish or a little of both, Isabella closed her eyes and told her revelation out loud.

"I'm not one of them. I'm not a Hockley, I'm not fa... that man's daughter." It felt like an increasing weight forcing it's way down onto her stomach as she said it out loud. She was confused about what to call Hockley. 'Father' no longer applied but there was still an awkwardness attached to calling him Cal.

"What? Are you sure?" Darcy was as shocked as she at the news.

"Very sure. He told me everything today." Isabella held her face in her clammy hands. "He took me, he grabbed me in a moment of complete chaos and lied to me about everything. I'm nobody's daughter. I don't have a family now, I don't even know my real name."

She continued her story, recalling as much of Cal's words as she could. As the tale progressed, she found the crushing weight in her body lifting, replaced by a burning intensity. Fury filled her heart, moving outwards around her body. Her sentences became sharp and deliberately hurtful about the Hockleys. Even though she was the eventual messenger of truth on the matter, she held a special malice towards Jocelyn.

"That witch! That woman is evil, there's no other word for it. She's been laughing at me for years behind my back. They all have. I've been made a fool of. I'm not worth being told the truth by them. I don't know anything now, I don't even know who I am!"

Darcy thought about what he'd just heard for a moment. He'd seen no indication whatsoever during his time in the Hockley estate that Isabella was not Caledon's child. A piece of news like that would have spread like wildfire around the servant's quarters. His father had worked for the family for most of his life and he'd... Darcy's thoughts spiralled. His father must have kept the secret for all this time too. He couldn't have not known. He felt sick knowing he was part of this all, part of the pain Isabella was going through.

"Izzy..." He ran out of anything else to say and simply held her. "Oh Izzy. I don't get it either."

"I can't remember any of it. How can you forget something like that? Like your real family?"

"It was a pretty traumatic moment in your life. Apparently your mind tries to block that stuff out as much as it can. You were so young."

"I hate that man." She spat, her head on Darcy's shoulder. "He's a monster!"

"Well... he did lie and that's completely wrong of course. But he saved your life too. He gave you a life. You can't be angry at him for doing that."

"But why keep it a secret? He said he was afraid of losing me. Apparently he had that much faith in me."

"He wanted a daughter. He wanted somebody to love and care for. You can't choose who these things happen to, it's fate."

"But he didn't give me that benefit to choose. Did he not think that I could still love him and think of him as a father without the biological ties? He has done a lot for me, he did save my life and give me those amazing memories. But they're tainted now. It feels dirty knowing I was only saved because it saved his ass at the same time!" She didn't even care that she'd let a curse slip through her lips. "It's all gone now. I'm nobody now."

"Don't say that. You're still you, even if you aren't a Hockley. It's the person that makes the name, not the other way round. You can do whatever you want with your life. Not because of that surname, but because you're a damn great girl. Stop me if I get too cheesy here but you're amazing, and I know it ain't just me that thinks so."

"Thank you Darcy. That's very sweet of you, but I don't really want to hear faint praise right now." Isabella said. She was comfortable with Darcy, free of restraints and deceit. He simply made her feel lighter, less afraid.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked her.

"I can't go back. I can't stand the idea of being in the same room as those people."

"Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know. Anywhere. I just need to get away. Go anywhere."

Darcy considered the possibilities. He couldn't leave her on her own. She was a socialite, raised to be given the best. As good as her instincts were, and as unusually down-to-earth as she was, he knew she'd be eaten alive by the real world and all it's troubles. Times weren't easy for the regular people of America, especially the city dwellers. He'd seen it, he'd lived it and he had hated every moment of that bitter isolation. Isabella would break so easily. He couldn't let her be hurt anymore.

"Come on," He said, standing up and grabbing her hand.

"I'm not going back!"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm coming with you. We'll just run away, go wherever we want to. You can start something completely new away from here. Come on, we can sneak back and I'll get my dad's car. We could go to Manhattan or Brooklyn or maybe even further away than that. Chicago! You'd love it there. Or maybe south, somewhere warm like Florida. Just say the place and we'll go."

"I can't let you abandon your life because of me."

"Don't worry about it. I don't have a thing tying me to this place. My dad will understand, I'll write to him later. He'll look after Lizzy for me too. This isn't about me anyway. This is about you starting your life again. Me, I've done it countless times. Sometimes it works and other times the shit hits the fan like crazy. But it's an experience I don't regret. You'll understand it yourself. Come on. Whee do you want to go?"

This was it, she thought. The next level was going to be tough. But she couldn't go back to what she once was. That part of her life couldn't exist anymore. She needed a new identity. She didn't want to be tied to that man, or those people anymore. Relaxing her limbs, but still uneasy on her feet, she let Darcy lead the way back into the darkness. They headed back towards the house, a journey that caused Isabella to panic. Her heart thumped against her chest at a quickening pace the closer the lights became. Darcy felt her tighten her grip, enjoying the sweet sensation of her hand in his. They reached the driveway. He dragged Isabella behind his father's car, a modest Ford model with rust on the edges. He needed the keys.

"Just stay here. Don't let yourself be seen. I'll get the keys, and some of your clothes too. Then we'll just go. Okay?"

Isabella nodded, not able to hide her fear. She crouched down into the shadows and watched Darcy run back into the house.

The few servants who had not joined the search were trying to discuss the matter while giving off the impression of doing something useful. Jocelyn sat in the dining room, reading a newspaper as if nothing was wrong. Darcy watched her casually take a drink as her lips curled into a smile under the glass. He had once heard of something called karma, a belief that if you do something bad then it will come back to haunt you. He hoped that would happen to Jocelyn, she deserved everything bad that came her way. He headed towards Isabella's room, looking as non chalant as possible. Grabbing a small bag, he shoved in as many clothes as possible, getting a little embarassed when it came to underwear. As he left the room, he saw a pile of sheet music sitting on a desk. He couldn't let her abandon her music, it was too big a part of her life. He folded the sheets carefully and put them into the bag. They might come in handy, he thought.

The servants' quarters were fortunately empty. Everybody that was able had been sent to search the entire area. They would be gone all night, Hockley wouldn't let them return without Isabella in hand. He didn't know Cal very well but he didn't matter to Darcy. Isabella did, and he knew he sounded impossinly silly when he talked of how much he liked her. His father knew what it meant but chose to ignore it. He knew nothing could come of it. Until now. Isabella was free and he cared for her deeply. He obviously cared more for her than her supposed family. Lies weren't part of his vocabulary anymore. They caused too much pain. He wanted to make sure she would never have to be lied to again. He grabbed the spare set of car keys from his room, along with all the money he had saved, and quickly left. He didn't notice Preston watching from behind.

Preston knew his son too well. He was a stubborn, dim-witted, spontaneous mess. He made decisions without so much as a thought for others. He wasn't adverse to a little gambling and he was as notorious a skirt chaser as Preston had been in his hey day. But he was also full of love. Sometimes he became so full of it that he did stupid things. He knew the signs of Darcy going through such a phase. He also knew that he couldn't tell a lie. If he said something to you, it was 100 the truth. That got him in trouble a lot. But if he felt so strongly about Isabella, like he had seen him look at her, then it was geniune and worth a try. Watching his son, determination in his eyes, he knew that this decision was stupid. But it was right. He didn't stop Darcy from starting up he car and driving away to god knows where. People would get hurt, his employer being the main victim. He hoped that it would be worth it all.

Isabella kept her head down as the car left the driveway and hit solid road. Her mind didn't stop sreaming until Darcy told her to sit up. They were on their way.

"Where to Izzy?" He asked her.

"You choose. I'm happy with wherever you want to go."

"I know the perfect place."

Isabella trusted his judgement. The flickering car lights illuminated the way ahead, as unsure as the passengers.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

A.N. Well this has been a long time coming. I apologise a million times to everyone who wanted this sooner. I've had a crazy life recently - my grandad went into hospital, my family went nuts and I moved to university! But I wanted to write this to thank you all for reading it as much as you all have. This is definately not the end of the story, I know how it ends and I hope you will be satisfied with what I write. Once again thank you to you all.


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